


Veritable

by Etsuryuu



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Hermaphrodites, M/M, Other, Romance, Very Temporary Father/Son Incest (not part of main plot), Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9216530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etsuryuu/pseuds/Etsuryuu
Summary: Primarily a Piccolo x Gohan/Gohan x Piccolo romance/adventure story; this story begins approximately a year post Majin Buu. Many other Dragon Ball/Z characters and relationships will be touched upon throughout. There will also be original characters which will blend in and have their own plot. This story is basically my take on how a mature romantic relationship would be built between Piccolo and Gohan, and how the other would be if their species was suddenly changed beyond their will (Piccolo as a full-blooded Saiyajin and Gohan as a Namekkuseijin.





	1. Upside-down

A bit more than a year after Majin Boo, two mischievous little demi-Saiyajin giggled to themselves as they dropped the remaining mystical orange starred orb down with the other six. Any time Shen Long was summoned before, the grownups got to make the wish. This time it was their turn; they could get any wish in the world they wanted! Though once finally at that moment, they were at a loss for words.

“Trunks, my father is back from Other World, and I’m pretty happy with my family and with you as my best friend. And you’re the heir to the wealthiest family on the planet… What we gonna wish for?” asked a wild haired little bundle of power and innocence, clad in orange and blue.

“Well Goten, I’ve heard my papa complain to himself sometimes when he thinks no one is looking. He used to have a tail until it was cut off. He gets angry sometimes that it never grew back like it was supposed to.” Trunks paused to visibly shiver at the thought of losing a limb that way before beginning again. “Apparently all full-blooded Saiyajin are born with them. You and I didn’t get them though, so maybe we could wish for all who have Saiyajin blood to have at least one healthy Saiyajin tail from now on; that whenever it is lost, it can grow back soon. That would restore both of our fathers’ tails and give us each one. Isn’t that cool?”

“Would it make us stronger?”

“I don’t think my papa would miss his as much as he does if it wouldn’t,” answered Trunks self-assuredly.

“Okay, but Shen Long can grant three wishes now—thanks to Dende—as long as they’re not too big. What else should we wish for?”

Trunks’ hand went to his mouth and his eyes glistened with genuine curiosity and mischief. “Piccolo is pretty cool, huh? Haven’t you ever wondered what he would be like as a Saiyajin?”

Goten’s hand went to his mouth too then as he also got caught up in the moment. “Ooohh! Piccolo-san would be so mad,” he uttered in between giggling.

“How do you know Goten? He’s a warrior too. He might like being Saiyajin; even if his pride won’t let him admit it.”

Goten rubbed his head in the same fashion as his father then. “Hmm… You may be right Trunks. So, it wouldn’t be a selfish wish?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, what about the third wish?”

“How about if we make Gohan a Namekkuseijin?” Trunks asked, scientific curiosity and excitement shining in his eyes not unlike his mother’s, but also hope.

Goten’s eyes got huge at that. “I don’t think Nii-chan would like that Trunks! What made you think of that one?”

Trunks rubbed his chin for a moment before peering towards his friend. “I just want to see it, okay? If he or Piccolo doesn’t like it, they can both reverse it in a year. Na?”

Goten started sniffing then. “But I don’t want Nii-chan to not be my Nii-chan!”

Trunks moved closer to his friend then and wrapped an arm around him. “If I had green, brown, black, purple or any other type of skin, would you like me any less?” Trunks asked seriously. With his precocious self, he loathed how certain foolish people on Earth still treated people differently, even cruelly based on looks and other things not their choosing; proof of their ignorance and cowardice to say the least. If one is too cowardly to be the nail standing up to do what’s _truly right_ —what the others hammered down always _fail_ to—how can one ever become a true hero let alone a decent person doing such foolish and wasteful things as hating, denigrating and destroying others? They can’t. It wasn’t rocket science! He had a hunch about Gohan and Piccolo and was therefore conducting an experiment of his own. If Gohan and Piccolo had a chance, then maybe he and Goten would too—in the future of course. Though he was already having certain feelings and knew how he felt for Goten, he knew he would have to be patient. They were both still young children and had a lot of growing up left to do; even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“No, of course not! But—”

“Then Gohan won’t be any less your brother. True family—like real friendship—is of the heart. And like I said, if he doesn’t like it, he can reverse it in a year.”

“Oh-kay. But if Nii-chan gets mad, I’m blaming it all on you.”

“Fair enough.”

Moments later Shen Long was summoned. All three wishes were spit out of the boys’ mouths with the masterful quickness of youth.

“Can you do all that Shen Long, please?” Goten added with child sweetness.

A large sweat drop formed on one side of Shen Long’s face. He knew that granting _all_ those wishes would be chaotic to say the least. However, they were wishes he had the power to grant, and he did take pride in his own work. And, this way he would not have to see any of their clique’s usual faces for at least a year.

His eyes glowed and the dark sky crackled as Shen Long carried out his work. “YOUR WISHES HAVE BEEN GRANTED. FARE THEE WELL,” boomed Shen Long’s magical voice, the Dragon Balls scattering moments later, the sky returning to normal.

“I don’t feel any different,” muttered Goten displeased. But his frown soon turned upside-down when he saw Trunks’ lilac-hued tail. He couldn’t help it. The child in him _had_ to grab the furry tail. “Sugoi Trunks!” he expressed happily while petting it.

Trunks eyes became wide and his back stiffened. He couldn’t move let alone focus while Goten was grasping his tail so tightly and petting it so... He thought he might truly pass out. “Goten let go, please,” he uttered more softly than usual.

“Oh, I’m sorry Trunks. I love nature and stuff. I couldn’t help it. And…”

Before either of them could think another thought, an enormous sentou ryoku larger than Goku’s or Vegeta’s stole their attention. Seconds later a mighty Saiyajin with Piccolo’s height, garb and disposition shot down to the ground where Trunks and Goten were.

“Did you think this is funny, a joke, a game?!” he bellowed irately. “You have messed with my life doing this! Even if it can be reversed you—” He stopped then once he noticed Goten and Trunks sniffing with their heads down. His breath did hitch once he scented their very real tears. They hadn’t meant any harm. They…

“Do you hate us now Piccolo-san?” they asked in unison, gazing up sadly at his now ebony-hued face; his skin just as rich and healthy in new pigment as it had been green before. They both looked up to Piccolo. And though both were curious and playful, neither had meant any disrespect or harm for him.  

“No. But if you really mean to do something for someone, make sure it’s something they want,” he answered more softly, gently patting each boy’s head before sighing. It was then he noticed the change in them as well. “I see you boys got a wish for yourselves too. You better have Vegeta show you how to use those; otherwise the earth is in trouble. That or we have to get rid of the moon again,” Piccolo said matter-of-factly, pointing to their tails.

Goten and Trunks looked at each with wide curious eyes then; their tears drying up and soon forgotten. But no sooner did some of the other Z team members show up, one after another.

Goku spoke up first. “While I do feel better having my tail back, you boys shouldn’t be doing things like this without asking. And—” His words caught in his throat once he got a look and feel at the new Piccolo. “ _Whoa!_ Battle me Piccolo?” he asked at once mirthfully enthused; finding a worthy opponent his ever pressing dream in life. Everyone sweat-dropped at that. Piccolo just groaned.

Vegeta peered at Piccolo and grimaced; he was almost shaking in his presence. He was stronger than all of them combined now. How was that bloody possible! No, he did not like it at all.

Yamucha, Kuririn, Tenshinhan and Chaozu looked at Piccolo in genuine surprise. But it was the familiar eyes of one that had become more precious to him than he ever wanted to admit that pushed Piccolo over the edge. It did not matter that his appearance had been severely altered too. Eons could pass and Piccolo would never forget the first eyes that had gazed at him in love, trust and acceptance instead of hate, fear and disgust; eyes so unlike the others, so gentle and decent he could not forget them if he tried.

In his intense emotions, Piccolo had inadvertently become a sugoi Super Saiyajin; his turban shooting off and revealing his new wild shoulder-length mane of power-bathed rigid locks, two uniform front fringes curving down his brow as his antennae had before. Mouths dropped all around once they saw him and felt his immense power. But one voice drowned out all the others.

“P-Piccolo-san?”   

 All eyes turned to see the disquieted young Namekkuseijin dressed in Saiyaman garb minus the headgear.

“G-Gohan?” Piccolo uttered next. Both in silent disbelief yet strangely drawn to the other.

“You are both grounded!” barked Vegeta at Trunks and Goten. The whole situation was starting to get on his bloody nerves. The only good thing was he had his tail back.

“Don’t be so hard on ‘em Vegeta. We got our tails back. And Piccolo and Gohan can be wished back to normal in a year. No harm done,” said Goku thoughtfully. Slinking closer to Piccolo, he whispered, “You will fight me first though, right?” Having felt all that magnificence, Goku knew he had to fight him before he turned back; not at all realising just how incredibly insensitive it was to say such a thing to him.

Piccolo slumped then, his Super Saiyajin transformation dissipating as his chagrin mounted. Looking back down to Trunks and Goten, he sighed heavily. “Stay out of trouble from now on,” he commanded stoically before taking off from the whole group in a grand blast of Ki, needing very much to be away from everyone and thing just then.

Vegeta’s face scrunched up into a scowl as he thought of how Piccolo was stronger than him as Saiyajin before he took off in his own exaggerated blast of Ki, dragging Trunks with him. It had already been done; what else was there to say?

The rest of the Z team, apart from the Sons, left for their own homes, feeling there was a family moment that needed to be had.

Goten kept his head down, swirling his foot in the dirt; not so much afraid of his father as his big brother.

“Well, at least we know you can’t do it again. Shen Long cannot grant the same exact wish more than once,” said Goku out loud. Picking Goten up and bringing him closer, Goku whispered in his ear. “I don’t know why you turned your brother into a Namekkuseijin, but thank you for the Piccolo part. Don’t tell anyone I said so, okay?”

Goten shook his head in the affirmative. But it was his Nii-chan’s reaction he was most worried about. So far, he didn’t seem too happy about it. It made him feel like crying again. He never wanted his Onii-chan to be disappointed in him. He—

He stilled then as his brother’s new three instead of four-fingered hand gently petted his head; relishing how gentle he was with him even with talons.

“I was surprised Goten. I am not sure how you and Trunks thought of this, but I’m not mad. This will be a learning experience for me,” _and Piccolo_ , he thought the last part instead of saying aloud.

“Really Nii-chan?” asked Goten innocently.

“Really. Though, don’t ever mess with the lives of others without their consent again, alright?”

“Okay,” answered Goten sincerely, affectionately hugging his now Namekkuseijin brother along with their Saiyajin father.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I could do for some of your mother’s cookin’ right about now,” said Goku, trying to lighten the mood.

Gohan frowned internally but kept the emotion out of his new Namekkuseijin face. He wasn’t hungry. His new body felt…immensely strange to him. But, if it would help him better understand his dear shishou; he would endure it with simultaneous humility and pride, hoping that Piccolo would soon learn and understand at least some of how he had felt as well in his new body too.   

“Let’s go home,” he finally said. “Goten, you get to explain how I became like this to Okaasan, understand?”

“Hai, Nii-chan. That’s only fair,” answered Goten, just happy his brother didn’t hate him.

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Of course, once briefed of the situation, Chichi peered at Gohan strongly and then fainted; Goku rushing over to her, lifting her onto the sofa and beginning to fan her face.

Gohan sighed to himself; he had known that would happen. But his mother would be alright. He wondered though… He noticed as a Namekkuseijin, his senses, smell and otherwise, were just as powerful as a Saiyajin’s, perhaps much more so; his mind still trying to decipher all the various sounds he could now hear with the pinpoint clarity of his Namekkuseijin ears. Now he understood why his whistling had been painful to Piccolo. He was astoundingly more sensitive to everything now! He did not know how his shishou did it every day, but he certainly had a greater respect for him. But he had always thought Piccolo was amazing…

“Goten, get your mother a wetted washcloth for her head. Gohan, go check on the stuff cooking in the kitchen,” said Goku, still fanning Chichi.

Both boys got up quickly then to do as their father said.

Once Chichi was alright and all four were seated at the dining table, all said their thanks before digging in. But Chichi stopped once she saw her teen son’s stilled wide-eyed expression. “Gohan?” she asked tentatively, still a bit unnerved at her son’s new visage.

Gohan’s eyes suddenly shot to hers then. “Kaasan, this meal is— _amazing_!” he conveyed sincerely, beginning to dig in more heartily. It was like an orgasm for his sense of taste. He had never tasted anything as clearly, thoroughly before. _Wow._ Even though it wasn’t a need for his body, he had no idea why Piccolo would not allow himself such an experience, at least more than occasionally.

Chichi smiled then, beginning to dig back into her own food. No matter how he looked on the outside, that was still her son’s voice that complimented her so nicely. Perhaps she could endure the year.

Goku stopped for a moment beginning to have his own troubles. The new scent of his son was beginning to…arouse him, at the dinner table? Why? No, no, no, no, no. He had to get his mind on other things…like fighting? Yeah. Battling Piccolo would be awesome! But his breath hitched when his eldest son suddenly peered at him with serious knowing eyes.

_We’ll talk later Tousan. Please stay cool in front of Goten and Kaasan._

Goku’s eyes widened. But he took a deep breath and then began eating again with his usual gusto. He could not believe he was attracted to his son in such a way, but did his best to stay focused on the meal.

Goten kept looking from his brother to his father; trying to figure out what secret they were hiding. But when they both gave him a stern look, he shrugged his shoulders and continued eating.

The Son meal continued in such a way until it was through.

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Back on Kami’s Lookout, Piccolo continued to devour plate after plate, bowl after bowl of the diverse foods Mister Popo had made for him. What did he have for a stomach now, a black hole?! He had already ingested an enormous amount of food, but it didn’t seem like he was any closer to abating his hunger pains!

Enough was enough; he neither could nor would spend all day eating! He had training to do. He had to get some Senzu from Karin. After thanking Mister Popo and Dende, Piccolo stood from the grand table and began flying towards Karin.

After ingesting a handful of Senzu, Piccolo sighed with relief. That’s what it would have to be. He could not handle having to eat so much so often otherwise. Karin luckily happened to be in a good mood and understood his plight well; allowing him to take a large sack of Senzu with him back to Kami’s Lookout.

After all that, Piccolo just wanted some place quiet to meditate in. Once he found said place and levitated near one of his favourite waterfalls, oddly enough; it was actually more difficult to focus as a Saiyajin. Go figure. Nonetheless, he stayed there until he reached his usual calm; meditating for hours as had become his personal habit.

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After Goten had been tucked in bed for the night, Goku lead Gohan to one of his “secret places”. They definitely needed to talk.

Once at one of his favourite caverns at the foot of the mountain and near a nice river, Goku began first.

“Gohan… I’m sorry about what happened at dinner. I’ve never felt that way about you before, honest! Please don’t—”

“Tousan, it’s alright. It’s normal. I’ve learned on my own that Saiyajin are attracted to those that are powerful in more ways than one. And our tails only heighten those feelings just as they do our power.”

“But you were just as powerful before and I never—”

“Before, I had genetic scent markers to keep you away, as your son—a close relative. Now you can only scent Namekkuseijin and feel great power emanate from me.”

Goku peered at him then with wide eyes. “This isn’t gonna work Gohan. I can’t live in the same house with you when I have such a strong urge to… I mean, I love your mother, but I’ve never had such powerful urges to…” He couldn’t even say it; it was too much for his simple, battle-loving self to come to grips with. But then, other thoughts came to mind.

“Wait, I’ve never felt that way around Vegeta and Piccolo.”

“Vegeta’s attitude keeps many away—that and he emits strong scent signals to keep all away from him in that regard. I think Bulma is the only one that broke through that and can stand him in all that he is. Both are obnoxious, prideful, selfish and stubborn in their own ways; yet still possess ultimately decent hearts, so they make oddly the perfect couple…. Please don’t tell either of them I said that. However, today when you sensed Piccolo up close in his new form for the first time, that was more than mere battle lust in you, wasn’t it? You were probably just so excited to fight him that you didn’t realise it then, huh? It is only because you had so far surpassed him in power before that you hadn’t sensed him that way, and before that he had been an enemy.”

Goku blushed to his ears then; his tail flicking as realisation kicked in with his emotions. Gohan began flushing violet. His father’s scent was driving him mad! And even though he wasn’t technically his son of the flesh anymore; that would just be _too_ _weird_. But more than that, he had been saving himself for the one he longed for with his whole heart. He had waited this long. And after what happened today, he would not give up just because of strong urges.

But when his father sidled up next to him and wrapped his arms and tail around him, he thought he might die! The exquisite warmth of his father’s Saiyajin tongue—as it sought entrance into his inner recesses—undid him. He immediately began to plunder his father’s mouth; both vying for dominance as they tasted each other, aggressive hands roaming each other’s well-toned forms. But after pulling away for breath, it was Goku’s deep moan at his sensual touch that woke Gohan entirely; him pulling away from Goku harshly.

Goku’s eyes were half-lidded until he saw his son’s incredulous screaming eyes. “Gohan, I’m so sorry I—”

“It was me too. I can sense, _feel_ so much more in this body that everything becomes… _intoxicating_. I don’t know how Piccolo and Dende do it… Anyway, don’t leave home. You just recently returned from the Next World and Kaasan and Goten still need you. I’ll leave until the year is up. That would be for the best, as we must not always ask to use New Namekkusei’s Dragon Balls.”

Goku got a sly look in his eye then and was going to gesture with an elbow bump but thought better of it in their current states. “You’re goin’ to stay at that Videl girl’s house, huh? You sly—” He quickly halted when he saw his son’s face deflate. “Gohan, what happened? I thought you two were getting along well.”

Gohan took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly moments later. Gazing up wistfully at the night sky, Gohan began. “Today, when the boys made the wish to change me, I was in the middle of my first kiss with her. We had just stopped some hoodlums from robbing a grand warehouse as Saiyaman Mark I and Mark II, and she initiated the kiss in the excitement of the moment… But the look on her face when she pulled away from the kiss and saw my new face will never leave me. Videl is kind, strong and for the most part a righteous soul… But she is not who I thought, hoped she was. In her eyes then, I saw what still exists in too much of humanity—hate, disgust, ignorance and fear. Though it was only for a moment, and she apologized many times once I told her what had probably occurred to alter my body, having felt the summoning of Shen Long; I will never forget that look. And of course, she does not want to touch me while I’m like this, nor do I ever want to touch her in such a way again. For if she can hate one so easily for an image not one’s choice for even a moment, instead of just loving the decent soul she should know by now is there; I must not go that way with her.”

Goku remained quiet, looking down like a small child might for the longest moment, his tail curing and uncurling in his angst; having no words for his eldest, though he wished he did. He knew there were still many vile people in the world, in the universe; that loathed, denigrated and beat others down for no good reason. No matter how much good was done in any one moment, ignorant dastardly thoughts and individuals still roamed throughout the universe. It was like the universe had a natural glitch; allowing more of such ilk to propagate time and time again, the same vile, wasteful, unnecessary sickness passed from generation to generation, none having the courage and wisdom to surpass it. _Hate is assuredly the coward’s way._

But it was for his son he worried most now. He had thought Gohan and Videl would have made the perfect couple—both were strong, kind, intelligent and righteous people—but from what he just heard from his son, that would never be now. No matter how selfish he might have seemed at any given moment—always rushing for the next adventure, to fight powerful opponents—Goku did care immensely for all his family and friends, always yearning for their happiness. He didn’t want Gohan to be alone, to be sad, to—

“Tousan, it’s alright,” Gohan said softly, pulling him from his reverie. “There is someone very special to me that I’ve always loved; even if I didn’t fully understand it when it first began.”

“Who is she? Videl’s the only woman that would make sense. I don’t—”

“ _He_. I am certain of it now Tousan. I am in love with Piccolo. Had today not happened, I might have pushed myself down the path I thought I ought to follow, instead of the one I really want,” Gohan expressed earnestly, his eyes shimmering as they peered into his father’s. “I know it is a gamble, but I would rather be alone than without him.”

It became eerily quiet as Gohan awaited his father’s answer. For so long he had been too afraid to acknowledge the truth himself. But everything was so clear now; he had no more excuses.

“Well, I think you should tell Piccolo once you’re both back to normal. He’s stronger than us now and he might blow up the planet inadvertently,” Goku tried to joke. But his face became serious at Gohan’s stern gaze.

“This year will give us the chance to really get to know one another better; to see if what we have is _real_ … Who knows, if he wants to stay a Saiyajin, I’ll stay a Namekkuseijin so I can give him children. Or we’ll both turn back to normal and he can. I don’t care which, as long as I can be with the one I love.”

“ _Whoa._ But I thought they were all—”

“They possess both Tousan; can impregnate, can be impregnated as well as parent offspring on their own. Namekkuseijin are quite an amazing species,” hurriedly informed Gohan sincerely.

“Can I see it?” Goku asked inquisitively without thinking.

Gohan blushed violet to his ears before giving his father a look that said: “Hell no! How dare you ask?!”  

“Sorry Gohan, I was just curious… That’s why you smell so good, huh?” uttered Goku in a low voice full of arousal once more.

“I think it’s time I left Tousan. Neither of us wants to do something we would regret, right?” he pushed more sternly.

Goku rubbed his head in the usual fashion as when he was upset or thinking. “Yeah, you’re right my son. I’ll let your mother and brother know you’ll be living on your own for a while now. ”

He paused a moment and breathed deep to maintain control of his emotions. “You were forced to grow up so fast, and I wasn’t here for most of it… I’m sorry Gohan, I—”

He was cut off as Gohan gave him a warm, loving hug; pulling away a few moments later. “Thanks Tousan, for everything. You and Kaasan have given me what too many children on Earth still don’t receive—a decent, loving home to learn and grow up in and into my own person. Your love and guidance will never leave me. Thank you,” finished Gohan sincerely.

Goku nodded his head in the affirmative, patted his son’s back and took off back to the Son residence; wishing his son good luck without words, evading his own emotion imbued tears the moment had brought forth as he took flight instead of using Shunkan Idou.

Gohan stood still a long moment; peering up at the lovely night sky in hope and yearning. Moments later he took off towards the Tenkai, Kami’s Shinden his goal. He knew Dende wouldn’t mind him staying there for a while, and he needed to see Piccolo’s reaction to living with him so near before he said a word of how he really felt. Only one thing was certain, at least now there was some hope.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	2. First Day after Upside-down

Piccolo appeared quite startled when his eyes caught a strapping young Namekkuseijin—dressed in a solid white dogi with violet obi, in similar shape and style to his own, though without the cape and turban and including the usual brown Namekkuseijin moccasins—as he came walking out nonchalantly from somewhere inside Kami's Temple. Though he knew it was Gohan, it didn't make him feel any better. What in Kami's name was he doing there?

Gohan smiled widely once his eyes laid on Piccolo; hurrying his pace to him. “Good morning Piccolo-san," he greeted happily with an innocent grin.

"Good morning Gohan," returned Piccolo, striving to keep his face its usual even stoic with difficulty. He wanted to say: "What the hell are you doing here?!" not at all wanting Gohan to witness any of the troubles he'd already been going through as a Saiyajin, but decided against it. Instead he asked, "What brings you for a visit?" It was a legitimate question, for Gohan rarely visited him or Dende anymore.

"Oh, Dende said I could stay here until the year is up. It's kind of impossible for me and my father to live in the same house right now. Please don't ask... Why? Is my presence bothering you Piccolo-san? Should I have asked Bulma for a house-capsule instead?" Gohan probed earnestly, observing Piccolo's reactions intently.

"No!" yelled Piccolo quickly without thinking. "I mean, no. You know you're welcome here anytime." Piccolo mentally face-palmed then. It was so much harder controlling his thoughts and emotions now; he really did _not_ like it. And when Gohan smiled at him with that appreciative and gentle soul-tingling smile, his knees felt weak. He wondered if he might actually fall over. And if so, what the hell was wrong with him?!

"I'm glad," answered Gohan, sighing in a way that gave Piccolo goose pimples for the first time in his life.

They both stood quiet for a moment in not-necessarily-awkward silence; Gohan the one to eventually break it.

"Care for a spar?" he asked, his clean onyx eyes shining brightly up at Piccolo.

Piccolo's eyes smiled slightly before returning to their usual stern. "You, like your father only want to now because I'm Saiyajin," austerely said Piccolo more than asked. "You know, I expect such oblivious insensitivity from your father. But I would have never thought you—" Piccolo couldn't even finish his sentence; pain erupting within him without his say, putting immense pressure behind his eyes, though he refused to let the tears fall.

"Oh no, Piccolo-san! That's not it at all," quickly answered Gohan, his arm reaching up to Piccolo's shoulder. "I just know how good you are about training and wanted to be with you today. I don't care if we spar or meditate or anything; I just want to be with you... But, not if I'm a burden," finished Gohan softly, his arm falling from Piccolo's shoulder as he began turning away from him, the mirth already gone from his face as he scented Piccolo's genuine hurt.

Gohan would have seen Piccolo's eyes open as wide as saucers if he had been looking, Piccolo's sturdy Saiyajin tail rocking, stirring the air behind him in his angst.

"You are more than welcome Gohan…to accompany me today. I am…sorry I misunderstood," offered Piccolo, having straightened up his demeanour some, odd simultaneous relief and a different type of anxiety accruing within him.

"Are you certain I wouldn't be causing you any trouble Piccolo-san?"

A slight smirk appeared on Piccolo's face then. "Yes Gohan, I am sure. I was just getting ready to meditate up here. After that, we can spar in the Tsurumai-Tsuburi Mountains as long as you like. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good Piccolo-san," answered Gohan, the soft smile returning to his face. "Sounds good."

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_Clash_! Piccolo groaned as his body slammed face first into the severely hard and frigid permafrost below; Gohan's significantly stretched and elongated Namekkuseijin arm having finally caught firm hold of his leg so he could do such to him. Gohan kept hold of him, stretched his other arm to grasp Piccolo's other leg, lifted him up high in the air and slammed him down four more times before tossing him into a wall of ice quite hard.

Piccolo got the distinct feeling then that Gohan was getting back at him somehow; perhaps for all those times he had strictly trained and reprimanded him when he was still a small child. On the other hand, he was quite proud of him as his shishou. They had been at it for only a couple hours and the kid— _young man_ had already taken excellent control of his new body, utilising its unique abilities and attributes; Piccolo amazed that his power and potential had remained just as potent despite having lost his Saiyajin blood.

It made Piccolo wonder if there wasn't further he himself could have gone before. Had he been somehow holding himself back? Possibly. Unlike his original, his new Saiyajin body didn't allow him to bottle himself in so tightly; his emotions spewing forth even when he did not want them to, though disrupting his focus, dramatically increasing his power—

_Ugh!_ Distractions are dangerous in battle. And though Piccolo knew that better than most, he was having quite the difficult time quieting his thoughts; Gohan having taken advantage of his immobile state, lifting him into a bear hug from behind and begun squeezing him very tightly, becoming quite the formidable vice around him.

But Gohan quickly regretted the move. He had gotten too excited in having good control over his new body and getting to spend a day with Piccolo. He should have known better than to grapple or use holds and kept it to hits, kicks, blasts and blows. For he was easily becoming aroused with Piccolo in his arms; his new Saiyajin scent so pungent and close, the intense urge to lick him, throw him down and mount him putting him on edge.

He immediately released Piccolo then; floating a bit away in the air as he panted harshly, striving with great effort to compose himself in front of his dear shishou.

"Gohan, what's wrong?" asked Piccolo firmly, coming up alongside him, truly worried for his pupil.

"I'm…alright. We should probably stop here for today though," answered Gohan through panting, begging the universe that if Piccolo had scented or felt his arousal, he hadn't recognised it as such. He really didn't know. He had never sensed arousal from his shishou before and really wasn't sure just how sexual of a person he was individually or if he was at all.

"Maybe we overdid it Gohan," Piccolo offered, powering down. "I did power up quite a deal for our first try and you matched me. It might take us both some time to break in our new bodies. That's understandable," he finished matter-of-factly.

Gohan let out a heavy sigh then, powering down as well. "Yeah," he answered softly, though still very much needing a cold shower but not wanting the full shock of frigid waters. "Is there anywhere nice we could swim," he finally asked.

Piccolo looked at him surprised before answering evenly. "There are plenty of places. However, that's not my thing."

"You might like it now though…with your new body and all," offered Gohan hopefully. He didn't want to leave Piccolo yet; he yearned to share the whole day with him as he'd said, as he hadn't in years, yearning to really get to know _all_ of him. But he really needed some cool water to dunk into for a while so he could focus; both his sex organs thrumming, aching insistently in a way he'd never known before. And although he knew of some locations himself, he wanted a place picked by Piccolo; knowing it would be secluded, serene and amazingly beautiful.

"Alright. Follow me," urged Piccolo, taking flight a split second later.

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When they finally landed, a soft smile came to Gohan's face. Yes, his shishou could pick 'em. The cove Piccolo brought them to was astounding lovely—the water so breathtakingly azure and clear as far as the eye could see, and the golden land surrounding was so full of diverse and extraordinary flora and fauna just moving about, living out life naturally, pleasantly devoid of people and the multiple types of heinous pollutions they bring—that it made him still for a long moment; his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply, appreciatively.

Piccolo watched him for the longest seeming moment; unable to take his eyes from Gohan as he stood completely unguarded and absolutely… _wonderful_ against the picturesque scene he had become an almost integral part of. He would have never thought to call Gohan beautiful before—extraordinary, perhaps, with his abilities and gentle yet powerful spirit, but never...

Even, at that moment, words seemed far too inadequate. And although Piccolo felt quite a powerful new yearning he did not yet fully understand, he strove with great difficulty to push it down; to not allow himself to be overcome.

But when Gohan finally opened his eyes and turned his head to peer back at Piccolo in thanks, Piccolo did swallow thickly; feeling a tickling pool in his gut and novel warmth permeate his entire body at that otherworldly smile. Gohan's skin was deep rich green, red and bright pink, as a young Namekkuseijin's ought to be, his hair of course non-existent and his body actually just a bit buffer than it had been before, but that was assuredly his dear pupil gazing at him so affectionately Piccolo thought he might burst. However, before he could utter a sound, he was astounded as Gohan suddenly turned his back to him, disregarded all clothing and dived into the cool blue water with the grace of a swan.

Severe disquietude pervaded Piccolo then as words Gohan had said earlier finally sunk in. In offering that he might like it too, Gohan had been asking him to swim with him, which Piccolo really did not believe was a good idea at that moment. He certainly wasn't taking off all his clothes like Gohan had; his Saiyajin body constantly reacting to so many things in ways he did not like. But, then again, maybe the cool water would help some; at least he hoped so.

He no longer wore his turban, for it was too itchy with a thick head of wild raven locks. But Piccolo did disrobe most of his garb, only his solid purple boxers left on, his thick sable tail actually furling in anticipation as he moved over to the edge of the deep natural pool and tentatively dipped a toe in first. His Saiyajin body—though less delicate in other regards—after being in the Tsurumai-Tsuburi for a while, seemed to be more sensitive to temperature than his other, so he wanted to be sure the water wasn't so cool it would shock him.

Gohan hadn't lied; the cool water did feel quite nice on his hot Saiyajin skin, a pleasant sigh exuding from his full lips as he sat at the edge of the pool, allowing the water to go up past his ankles.

Little did he know that his long sigh had been heard, nor was he aware of the effect it had on a certain pupil of his.

Gohan just about died then as he choked underwater a ways, water breaching his airways as he lost his composure; his newly majestic ears having caught Piccolo's delectable sigh with clarity even underwater, it taking everything within him to scramble back to the surface.

_Huuuuh! Whew!_ Air. Thank Kami for it! And…

Gohan stilled in place as the most delightful sound he'd ever heard tickled his ears so perfectly he shivered. Piccolo was laughing—not a “ha ha, I'm gonna defeat an enemy” laugh, but genuine, happy laughter. It made Gohan almost melt; it was so exquisite to his ears, his heart, his very soul.

"You know, it was your idea to go swimming. If I had known it was going to be this much trouble for you, I'd have brought some life preservers for you," quipped Piccolo, wearing quite the amused smirk, continuing to chuckle lightly.

That too surprised Gohan. Not only was Piccolo laughing and smiling, he'd made a joke, which brought a real smile to Gohan's face too. Though, a mischievous smirk replaced it just before he grasped around Piccolo's waist and tossed him deep into the water.

Piccolo was caught off guard at first. But once his body started sinking to the dark blue depths of the cove's majestic pool, a smirk graced his features once more. So, Gohan wanted to play. Very well.

Gohan kept waiting expectantly for Piccolo to resurface; anxious for he knew he probably had something in store to get him back, suddenly feeling more innocently playful than he had in years. But after minutes went by without a sign of him, he started getting worried about Piccolo. Maybe something had gone wrong in his new body. Maybe…

_Ack!_ Gohan would have screamed had water not swiftly filled his mouth as he was abruptly pulled underwater from behind by a masterful body; powerful legs locking his own in place, a long tail just as strong wrapping around and securing his arms above his head, amazingly deft fingers beginning to tickle his wide open torso with earnest. Gohan was just dying; being deliciously tortured as his sensei continued his diligent ministrations.

If the touch wasn't killing him enough, the delicious laughter he heard echoing in his head through fractured telepathy was! Gohan couldn't focus enough to fight back. And was still quite astonished, for his shishou had _never_ exhibited this degree of playfulness before. He had never known him to be so unreserved; it warming his heart and body as honest joy evolved into thick arousal once more. The feel of his shishou's body up against his still naked one making him bite his lip. _Take me; I'm yours_ , his mind called out without thinking.

Piccolo immediately stopped tickling Gohan and completely let go of him then; all playfulness removed from him. His body was reacting in ways he did not like again. There was no way he wanted Gohan to notice it. He couldn't take his dear friend hating him. He just could not!

Gohan began to panic; quite horrified, believing Piccolo had caught that mental blurb and…he had probably just ruined everything! That was totally _not_ how he wanted to tell him! _Kuso!_ He had just gotten caught up in the moment. _Why_ …?

Piccolo swiftly flew up and out of the water; striving to locate anywhere on the land he could be alone for just a few moments. He knew his “saluting” predicament would calm down eventually if he left it alone. He could only hope Gohan didn't hate him for it. It had just felt so good to be with him, so exquisitely _free_ … And his new body seemed to get “excited” for the damnedest things now! He was right behind him for crying out loud! There's no way he hadn't felt it…!

Gohan remained underwater, floating in place, willing his tears to stop; sorrow dampening whatever arousal had begun again during his and Piccolo's playing. He had to be strong. They _had_ to talk. While things had not gone according to plan and the talk would happen a lot sooner than he was ready for, he could not allow himself to falter. He did love Piccolo, far too much to give up so easily.

Tapping both cheeks of his face once calmed some, Gohan resolutely flew up and out of the water; quickly drying with Ki and dressing swiftly before going to search for Piccolo, no longer able to detect his now cloaked presence.

Piccolo strove with all his might to push for all his years of advanced meditation to take him somewhere serene in his mind. If he could just get calm long enough, his arousal would abate and he could force himself out of hiding to apologise to his probably mortified student; hoping he did not hate him, would not look at him differently from now on.

_Ack!_ Gohan had found him before he was ready! He had forgotten to get dressed in his haste. And damn, he couldn't just manifest new clothes on himself anymore; really missing his other body now more than ever, his thick tail flicking in his angst.

Not turning around—unable to stand Gohan's face at that moment and still sporting quite the tent in his boxers—Piccolo began first. "I am so sorry Gohan. I am still quite unaccustomed to this body. It reacts without my say. But please do not think ill of me. I promise I have never felt such a way towards you before," pleaded Piccolo's uncannily for-once-vulnerable voice, unable to bear even the thought of his pupil's loathe or disgust. He was probably the only person in the world he gave a damn what he thought of him.

Gohan stilled then, stuck in place. Piccolo was sorry? And then a somewhat dulled yet still musky scent tickled his nose, and he remembered feeling something protruding poke him from behind. Ah. Piccolo had been aroused too. From the way he sounded, he hadn't heard his mental call or realised his arousal either. Okay, this left some options; though his heart did ache some that Piccolo had _never_ felt that way for him before at all. There was still some hope though, so he wouldn't give up; somewhat relieved the weighted conversation could be held another day.

"It's natural Piccolo-san. Saiyajin are attracted to those with great power in more ways than one, so don't worry about it," he informed matter-of-factly.

Piccolo quickly turned around to peer at him incredulously. "That's not very practical; especially for a such battle-prone species," he uttered passionately, quite displeased at the revelation, wondering if Gohan had ever felt such a way towards him; if sensations of the flesh would cause other feelings to evolve in time, but not having the gumption just then to ask.

"True. But it is what it is. As a warrior you get over it as time passes," answered Gohan softly, still trying to settle his own composure.

A few moments of awkward silence passed as neither senshi was quite sure just what to say next. But that was soon broken by a loud and prolonged growling. Piccolo's face heated up something fierce with embarrassment, knowing it had been his stomach. Gohan began chuckling quite heartily; the moment genuinely funny to him, also just needing immensely to laugh then.

"Come Piccolo-san. Let's get you dressed and then something to eat," offered Gohan, beginning to walk back to the edge of the cove, leaving Piccolo's clothes that he had picked up for him nearby on a tree, realising that his shishou probably needed a moment alone.

Piccolo let out a long sigh once Gohan was a bit farther away. Being a Saiyajin wasn't as easy as he had thought it would be. There was still so much he did not understand. But he was a warrior and therefore an apposite student. Knowing that Gohan didn't hate him, allowed his thoughts to become lucid. He would master his new body just as he had his former. The year would not be a burden but a journey which he would make his own.

Taking one last deep breath, he began dressing. And once through, he made his way back out to edge of the cove and near Gohan.

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Piccolo gaped with wide eyes as Gohan began to dig into a large chunk of the roasted dinosaur meat they had hunted together earlier with even more fervour than he had before as a demi-Saiyajin; unable to remain quiet about it. "You shouldn't do that Gohan. Namekkuseijin do not ingest more than water, thin broths, soups or small amounts of food unless pregnant. Doing so can have the same effects as overeating and junk food does to Earthlings," he informed seriously.

Gohan paused in mid-bite; his eyes becoming quite wide at the revelation. Wow. Well, at least he knew now why it had been difficult get Piccolo to really eat with him in the past, for more than a few bites. It hadn't been just because of his stiff and stern self; there were practical reasons. Okay. But it still wrecked his mind. Why would they have such powerful senses if they didn't get to utilise them usually, fully? It seemed like such a waste; kind of like how they had such magnificently sharp teeth, such exquisite fangs yet didn't ever really get the chance to thoroughly use them. And—

Oh. Piccolo was still peering at him seriously, worriedly. "Okay Piccolo-san. Thank you for telling me. I'll stop after this piece. You could probably eat this whole thing yourself now anyway, so it's fine."

Piccolo blushed then, not quite knowing why; beginning to dig into his cut of dinosaur meat quite heartily to stem his thoughts. As a Saiyajin, he was immensely hungry after all that had transpired thus far that day.

Gohan began to eat more slowly and with control to finish his piece of meat; not one to waste food, certainly still enjoying the succulent flavour and texture, silently hoping no adverse effects had accumulated in his new body yet. He had already eaten quite a bit at home the night before; not really so much hungry, just that everything had been _so_ _good_ with his newly enhanced senses. He would surely be more careful from now on though. And he pondered. He had learned another thing too—that Namekkuseijin do eat more when pregnant; good to know. He blushed brightly then when he imagined himself and how he might be if ever pregnant with Piccolo's child.

He breathed deeply after taking a peek at Piccolo; luckily he had been too immersed in his ministrations to notice.

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By the time there was nothing remaining of the giant reptile than bones, Piccolo grumbled to himself. Yes, his hunger was finally sated—for a while anyway—but he was definitely sticking to Senzu. It was much too tedious otherwise. He had only agreed to hunt and eat for Gohan's sake, for he had really seemed eager to. And—

His thoughts automatically paused as his eyes caught Gohan smiling happily on his back on his new addition in the brilliant afternoon sun; just beaming after having successfully utilised his Namekkuseijin abilities to conjure up a large red blanket to rest on for a while, his eyes closed while enjoying all that nature had to offer all around him.

Gohan… He was _so_ …

"Piccolo-san, what are you thinking?" suddenly asked Gohan softly, his head tilting to peer over at his shishou in a way he hadn't in years, his inquisitive dark eyes piercing him with an intensity that made Piccolo's breath hitch.

Oh crap! Thinking? Um? That I want to… _No._ That's wrong. I shouldn't want to do that with my student…my dearest friend…to betray you in such a way… I could never forgive myself. It isn't just because I'm Saiyajin now. I know now I really want to…hold you in my arms; to please you and make you _mine._ _Kami help me!_

The realisation made Piccolo feel a new disquiet he had never known and certainly loathed.

"I have to go Gohan. I am sorry. We will have to do this another day," swiftly uttered Piccolo, blasting off into the sky and out of range with a sudden speed that made Gohan's ears pop.

" _Piccolo_!" Gohan yelled at the top of his lungs, swiftly standing up. He yearned to go after him, but understood after inhaling his scent that he needed time alone. Half of him did indeed long to go catch up with him and just tell him _everything_. But there seemed to be vulnerability, a sort of new frailness to Piccolo now that he had never shown before. Gohan did not wish to pressure him; terrified of pushing him away. If they were to have anything real, it could not be forced, so he had to remain patient. He had to believe with his whole heart that they were meant to be, and that as such, things would eventually work themselves out.

Little did either of them know that a certain diverse group from other galaxies was on its way to Earth—one that would soon turn everything they knew upside-down for real.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	3. Visitors, Neighbours, Friends or Foes?

Gohan sighed heavily to himself as he begrudgingly moved out of a meditative asana. No matter what form of meditation he attempted, he could not get himself to just relax and focus. Piccolo had been avoiding him for weeks now; he hadn’t even returned to Kami’s Temple once to wash, eat or sleep after that one half day they had shared together, keeping his Ki well-hidden. While he knew he needed to be patient—understanding Piccolo’s obvious disquiet and confusion—it didn’t stop his heart from aching the longer he stayed away from him.

He knew for certain now that Piccolo was at least attracted to him. The way he had looked at him that day—just before shooting away from him in an extraordinary blast of Ki—left little room for doubt on that end. What he needed to know is if it was merely because Piccolo was currently in Saiyajin form or if there wasn’t more too it. If there wasn’t much more there, it would hurt, a lot. But his complete absence hurt more. He understood if Piccolo did not truly feel the same as he did for him he would have to eventually accept it; hoping that they could both remain friends. But he knew for certain he would not be able to go on in life without him in it at all. That is why finding the courage to just tell him the truth was almost harder than a dastard’s head. If only he could—

Gohan’s melancholy thoughts were suddenly interrupted then. He could sense multiple dubious Kis coming closer to Earth, near entering her atmosphere. Though it was certainly not the best timing, as one of the Z Senshi, he took it his responsibility to investigate. Lifting up off the floor of Kami’s Temple, dressed this time in a simple lose medium-sleeved indigo gi, Namekkuseijin moccasins and violet obi, Gohan began making his way toward the incoming Ki signatures; relief filling him a bit as he could finally sense Piccolo’s again as he too, along with the other Z Senshi, made his way to their incoming “visitors”.

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Once at the location on Earth everyone was sure their visitors would be landing, Gohan gazed up at the sky intently; crossing mental fingers, hoping that nothing bad would happen but at the same time grateful for the distraction. For, even now, with all the other Z Senshi present and waiting in a stretch of hot rocky desert terrain, Piccolo was avoiding even eye contact with him; keeping his stern gaze to the sky, obviously not realising just how much he was squeezing his heart by doing such.

Though, before anyone could so much as breathe, a stunning thirty meter long, twenty meter wide, pure ivory-hued almond-eye-shaped uchuusen began gracefully descending until it was hovering just a half meter above the ground in the midst of them without any discernable propulsion, as if it could use Bukujutsu. Every Z member waited patiently, all on their guard, never having seen such a craft before. Though none of them had yet sensed any evil presence from within said spacecraft, one could never be too sure.

When it finally gently touched down, an opening began to show itself in the middle of the foreign craft; it indeed looking uncannily as if a giant mystical eye was opening, a long golden ramp proceeding out of it like a strange misplaced exorbitant tongue. So when a timid little person finally made its way out and slowly down the ramp, it astounded them all.

Everyone did a double take as the small child only eighty centimetres in height, appearing even smaller because he was dressed heavily in vivid royal blue and white Namekkuseijin-styled robes and adorned in precious jewels and metals, suddenly started running until he had deposited himself in Gohan’s arms. Gohan was absolutely incredulous as little deep green and bright pink and red arms secured around his neck and a raven-furred tail jingled with gold rings as it swished to and fro in the child’s obvious immense emotion, in awe of the tiny tyke’s appearance and speechless as the little one was currently rubbing his head in his gi as he wept.

Once Gohan finally came back to his senses, he instinctively hugged the young stranger close; his own eyes shimmering with emotion for a few reasons, though one special in particular. Whoever the child was and wherever he was from, if what he saw and scented from the child was true, it was possible for him and Piccolo to have children! The child scented to be a pure Namekkuseijin/Saiyajin hybrid. Sugoi! Though, his spirits dampened slightly then. He and Piccolo would actually have to be _together_ for that to be possible…

Everyone’s attention was taken aback as more and more diverse people of every shape, size, gender, age, hue and phenotype started to spew out of the strange craft; some crying, some dropping to their knees and kissing the ground, some whooping and shouting in joy and others falling to their rears so simultaneously overwhelmed and relieved they couldn’t quite take it.

Though, when a strapping 240cm tall Namekkuseijin hybrid—with long spikey vivid deep red hair tied back into a tail behind his head and down his back, three long front fringes going past the area antennae would have been on a full-blooded Namek and over his eyes, with cape, weighted shoulder pads and dogi in a similar fashion to Piccolo’s, though somewhat thicker, the scarfed cape gold in hue and the dogi pure black, tied with golden obi, his long powerful red-furred tail standing just as tall and dignified behind him, with irises as dark and arduous as night—came gliding down the ramp regally, each step deliberate and gracefully trained, all became quiet. Even the tiny Namekkuseijin hybrid in Gohan’s arms stilled; turning to gaze at the other with pride, striving to wipe his young tears.

“Fucanglong,” began the towering red-haired stranger sternly, “I know that person is very reminiscent of our birthing parent, but you must better learn to use your senses. That is an entirely different soul; you should be able to feel it, if not discern it,” pushed the strapping stranger.

The tiny hybrid in Gohan’s arms began sniffing him thoroughly then before peering at him with large shimmering innocent onyx eyes; both hearts sinking as the child finally came to the realisation that what the other had spoken was true, that the person he held wasn’t the birth parent he had so longed to see again. Reluctantly Fucanglong let go of and jumped from Gohan’s arms; bowing many times in front of him in apology before swiftly flying to the side of his much taller, red-haired older brother, innocent tears falling from his eyes again.

Gohan—as well as the rest of the Z Senshi—was at a loss for words; swallowing the thick lump in his throat harshly. Seeing that little one’s hope shatter like that did something to Gohan. He knew then if he was ever blessed enough to have children of his own, he would do everything in his power to see that they never felt bad enough to make _that_ face.

Piccolo’s thoughts had stopped for an entirely different reason. The strapping redheaded Namek hybrid reminded him a lot of himself when he was younger and still training to kill Goku—not so much the way he looked as the sure air about him, the way he carried himself. It gave him mixed feelings. That and he was able to smell by then that both Namek hybrids had the same parents; that both scented strongly of Namekkuseijin and Saiyajin. He wasn’t sure just what to feel at that realisation; having believed for so long that certain things were just never going to be, his world beginning to unravel more and more from the inside out.

_Shimatta!_ How had he gotten so close to him so fast without his notice? The redhead was now in his personal space, leaning slightly so he could be face to face with Piccolo since he was a bit taller than him; smirking joyfully, his clean dark onyx eyes peering into his own as if searching his soul. Piccolo was _this_ close to—

Goku immediately moved in then. While he still was unable to sense evil from any of the group, he wasn’t about to let the newcomers slight any of his nakama; also hoping to stop Piccolo before he went off, knowing he could do so much more damage in his current form. He knew _that look_ from Piccolo only too well. “We have not yet been introduced,” pushed Goku sternly, holding a hand out to the grand redheaded Namek hybrid, urging him away from Piccolo some.

Said stranger looked to Goku’s hand attentively a moment before realisation kicked in. It must be one of their customs on this planet. Though he wished to read the wild haired Saiyajin’s mind to be certain of many things, as was easily in his power to, he held back. He did not want to do anything that might be considered hostile or unfriendly in any way, so he would just have to do by example, still unknowing of their language. So he held his hand out just as Goku had; waiting patiently for more instruction.

When Goku suddenly grasped his hand firmly and began shaking it amicably, he did his best to emulate. He did smile when some memories of the Saiyajin began to flow through him through their touch, the Saiyajin friendly and open; relief feeling him then as he received the language of Earth, found that Son Goku was their leader of sorts and was certain then they were amongst real friends instead of the opposite. He wouldn’t have to invade anyone’s mind for them to communicate now. He was glad his feelings had been right.

“I am called Zhulong. The little one adorned in precious jewels is my little brother Fucanglong. And these,” he paused to gesture to the throng of people that had come from his spaceship still in awe of being on a new safe and healthy world, “are our comrades—outcasts we have found from around the universe who have been searching for a place they can truly be safe and thrive in, a place they can really call _home_. Please treat us well,” he informed and pleaded sincerely, his clean dark onyx eyes piercing Goku’s strongly.

Zhulong was caught off guard when Goku’s face morphed into a grand smile then that seemed to swallow his eyes; his spirit shining brightly as he began to laugh quite jovially a moment.

“Hajimemashite. Ora Son Goku. You’re all welcome here. I’ll see what I can do to help you all find suitable homes. Until then, I’m sure Bulma wouldn’t mind helping you out and keeping your ship hidden,” he informed light-heartedly.

“Now wait just a darn minute Kakarotto! Don’t you dare start making plans without us! Bulma’s house _is my house_! Don’t you dare talk for her just because she’s in a business meeting. And I’ll be damned before allowing you to speak for me!” barked Vegeta heatedly, folding his arms in his signature fashion while growling, his eyes shooting daggers at Goku.

“I know Bulma will say ‘yes’ Ve-ge-ta. And it won’t kill you to be nice for once. We all know you care anyway, even if you won’t admit it,” contended Goku nonchalantly, though simpering sheepishly and scratching the back of his head in the usual fashion once he caught Vegeta’s “I’m so going to get you for this later” face.  

Zhulong couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the two Saiyajin continue to playfully interact. Despite what was said, they were obviously good friends, which was nice to see. There had only been one other full-blooded Saiyajin he had ever met before—his father. And while it was bittersweet to see three on this planet, while sadly unable to find any others during his travels, he was immensely glad to know they were decent; unlike most of the rumours throughout the universe, what most seemed to think of Saiyajin, tears almost filling his eyes as he thought of his lost father, urging them away before they could become substantial enough to be noticeable. His Namek side allowed him to feel and gauge most of the souls gathered around them a lot more clearly now that his own spirit was calm enough to focus, and it touched him to know that the Saiyajin on this planet were so immensely powerful and yet still decent, honourable; certainly rare in most species. His soul had led him on his journey well.

His thoughts also went to the strapping young Namek garbed in indigo that was so reminiscent of their birthing parent that his little brother had been fooled. He yearned to know much more about him and all three full-blooded Saiyajin—really he yearned to learn everything about them and the planet they had landed on; hoping they could all contribute to the strengthening and positive growth of one another, slight peace filling him that he might have finally found a decent home for his dear younger brother. Drifting throughout space, dubious planet to planet was no way for anyone to grow up; certainly no way to live.

And, he couldn’t stop thinking of that tall dark handsome Saiyajin dressed in weighted Namekkuseijin garb. Why was he dressed that way? Was he already mated, to a Namek? Just how many more Nameks were on the planet, Saiyajin? And why had he been absolutely unable to gauge his spirit, unlike all the others there? He was immensely powerful; so much so that he could not hope even fathom the boundaries of his true power—truly astounding! And while he could not get a clear reading of him like the others, he did believe, feel in his own soul that he was just as noble. One way or another though, he would certainly find all that out and more.

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Fucanglong, Trunks and Goten all played happily around Capsule Corp. together—after everyone had been introduced, properly greeted and a nice gracious feast had been provided for all Z members and new neighbours—causing their elder brothers to observe them thoughtfully for a moment.

Returned from her meetings, Bulma mused to herself as she got a look at all the diverse, interesting new people that currently resided at her home; the scientist within her already thinking up ways in which they could help each other out.

Vegeta kept grumbling to himself; munching on a tasty morsel here and there as he kept a close eye on the “interlopers” now “infiltrating” _his_ home. Damn Kakarotto and his big mouth!

The rest of the Z members were getting along swimmingly with their new guests. Though the warriors would never admit it, they enjoyed Bulma’s get-togethers—them giving them a sense of normalcy in their otherwise “out there” worlds—new faces making it all the more excitingly pleasant; once they were able to communicate, courtesy of Zhulong’s sharing of Earth’s language to his comrades through telepathy.

Zhulong pondered to himself then; momentarily satisfied, rubbing his full belly before gazing attentively on Gohan from across the table. He felt more at peace than he had in a long time; finally allowing genuine hope to swell within his heart and shine out of his face as he smiled fully without shame.

Gohan’s antennae twitched as he could easily feel powerful eyes upon him and the waves which they communicated, but he decided to ignore it once he knew to whom those eyes belonged. For, as he stole a quick look at the mighty Namek-turned-Saiyajin—his dear shishou—he could see as well as feel that he was anything but happy at that moment.

Piccolo’s lips were pressed into a thinner line than normal as he stood in his usual lonely position against a tree. It was the first one of their usual clique’s get-togethers where he had not only eaten quite well but he had no doubt ingested more than any other being there; eyes continuing to shoot to him every time he had grabbed another plate. He was finally sated for the moment. But after all that, he promised himself that he would never again tease the Saiyajin about their eating habits. For, one certainly could not help their own genetics.

But what truly peeved him was that he could not help but feel a dangerously increasing perturbation each time that crimson-haired Namek hybrid ogled Gohan. He knew he had no right to feel such a way—that it was foolish and even childish—but the longer he observed Zhulong’s immodest looks and manners around his dearest deshi and friend; the more he wanted to tear his head clean off his shoulders. And the way he had blatantly disrespected him in front of _his_ crew before Goku had interfered and only embarrassed him more, before everyone had travelled to Capsule Corp… He really wanted to crush him! If he so much as breathed wrong around Gohan, he would...

Piccolo was so wrapped up in his increasing mal contentment that he failed to notice Gohan’s nearing proximity.

“Piccolo-san…is everything alright?” enquired Gohan softly.          

Piccolo was so high-strung by then that he almost bit his own tongue; actually stammering a bit before answering. “I am fine, Gohan. Was there something you needed?” he answered rather coldly, as if trying to shoo him away.

While he wasn’t blatantly trying to be cold to Gohan, he really wasn’t quite ready to be in such close proximity to him. Just being in his presence—scenting his pure immaculate scent so strongly he could taste it in the back of throat, it causing feelings he still had little control over and not quite enough understanding of to pool in his gut, choking his focus and groin, and riding up spine and tail with no mercy, such unrelenting and pervading warmth causing him to want to do things to his dearest deshi he ought not to—so thoroughly turned his world upside-down he could not stand it! He needed more time away, more meditation, more—

His breath stopped entirely when he scented Gohan’s very real tears and the sorrow they were pregnant with; his eyes immediately going to his, his chest restricting harshly as if Gohan’s pain were his very own. But before he could offer a word of apology or comfort, his deshi began first.

“I am sorry for bothering you Piccolo-san. You must have a lot on your mind…with our new friends and all. I’ll be at Kami’s Temple if you need me,” all but whispered Gohan, with such a soft, defeated tone that Piccolo almost choked. He wasn’t allowed a word after as Gohan shot into the sky; his Ki fluctuating in a way that let others know he did not wish to be followed.      

Curses in Namekian, Earthling, and every other language that Piccolo knew began to filter throughout his head then. He had been striving for weeks to get himself together so he wouldn’t hurt his dearest friend and pupil; only to end up doing so anyway! Chikushou! Why were the important things always so hard to—?

“You have point five seconds to remove your hand from my shoulder before I remove your arm from yours and beat you with it,” growled Piccolo very frigidly, not at all playing.

Zhulong immediately did as he was told, but he kept his proximity near Piccolo; not at all afraid of him and actually quite intrigued.      

“You know, if you keep ignoring his pleas, he’s going to eventually move on,” Zhulong informed matter-of-factly, a glint of playful mischief in his eye.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you best move along before I do something _you’ll_ regret,” growled Piccolo with a sneer, his Saiyajin canines gleaming dangerously as he glared irately at Zhulong.

Zhulong sighed heavily a moment before answering; determination replacing all playfulness in him as his face became stern. “Could I borrow your face for a moment?”

Piccolo’s eyes narrowed seriously before a confident, almost cocky smirk permeated his expression. “Lead the way,” he commanded firmly, having more confidence in being able to “communicate” with the obnoxious red-headed lad— _alone_.

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“Gohan! What on Earth is wrong, my friend?” asked Dende earnestly, coming up alongside Gohan wanting to hug him but pulling back at the last moment as not wanting to hurt Gohan’s pride.

“Huh?” replied Gohan softly, not understanding until he felt his face, taking a deep breath once he felt it was wet with tears, begging his body to stop going against him. “I’ll be alright Dende, thank you,” he forced himself to answer.

Dende decided to lift up and hug him then anyway; knowing he needed it. After the warm moment they pulled away from one another; Dende urging to get Gohan’s attention after he realised on his own what was wrong.

“You know, Piccolo is a full-blooded Saiyajin right now. He is probably not being cold to hurt you but to keep you away because of his own insecurities. I can bet you without a doubt that he feels the same for you as you do for him, but is more than unnerved for any possibly negative consequences that could result. Also, realise his natural senses and abilities have changed as well. He probably isn’t aware you feel so strongly for him and is afraid of hurting or losing you,” informed Dende thoughtfully, his divine eyes piercing Gohan’s with their sincerity, and causing them to widen.  

“Either give him some time or tell him the truth yourself. But please, my friend, don’t either of you suffer yourselves or the other much longer,” finished Dende sincerely.

Gohan gawked at him incredulously then before flushing fiercely. “That obvious, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s so much obvious as intense. I have never felt such strong emotions before; from you or him. Just look at my antennae jumping… So, please, just tell him? You both deserve to be happy, and I have no doubt you can be.”

“Thanks Dende. If he comes, please send him to my room. If not, I’ll make sure to see him tomorrow.” And with that, Gohan moved deeper into the temple to the room Dende allowed him; plopping onto his bed and burrowing into his mountain of fluffy pillows after washing. Dende was right. Neither of them ought to be so afraid; both should have more faith in one another. And he would.

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Zhulong wasn’t one for beating around the bush, so once he and Piccolo were far enough away from everyone—after telepathically assuring his brother he’d be alright going away for a while—he readily began. “He’s in love with you. If you didn’t have your head far up your ridiculously tight arse, you might have noticed! Just pay attention to his scent and body signals! Hell, just look into his eyes! Gohan has been begging for you to get closer to him; it killing him every time you push him away. Yet he respects you so much, he’s afraid of pushing at all.” He paused a moment then to allow it to sink in; to observe the Saiyajin’s expression. “If he was throwing all that at me, I’d jump on him in a second.”

“You will not touch him!” roared Piccolo harshly, easily picking Zhulong up by the scruff of his cape so high above him it looked comical, being that Zhulong was taller than he.

“No, I won’t,” uttered Zhulong matter-of-factly, quite peeved. “I have not yet found _my_ mate,” he informed strongly.

“Then why the hell did you keep eyeing him at Capsule Corp?!” growled Piccolo loudly, everything in his system still shouting at him to crush this cheeky red-haired yaro.

“Because he reminds me of my dead Namekkuseijin birthing parent! Jerk! Why do you think my little brother ran so eagerly to him earlier? He wanted so much to believe—as children do—that even though his head told him it wasn’t him, his heart still yearned it to be true.”

All wrath oozed out of Piccolo then like a slowly deflating balloon. He could tell that Zhulong was telling the truth; making him feel like a true jerk, his arm slowly easing him back to the ground and letting go of him entirely as he looked away. Thoughts began to eat at his psyche then; as all Zhulong had said was clearly processed in his mind. Though, he was rendered from his contemplations entirely when hot full midori lips pressed forcefully to his own; longer arms wrapping firmly around his person.

Piccolo kept drowning in the kiss Zhulong pushed on him for a while; unable to fully convey or control the myriads of feelings that ran through his heated, unsated Saiyajin flesh and swirling mind. But the moment he saw the image of Gohan sad, suffering, hurting—because of him—he became painfully lucid, forcefully shoving Zhulong away and glowering at him dangerously.

He was a bit miffed when Zhulong only smirked at him before sighing thoughtfully. “I am not the true mate of your heart and soul. So, although your body is attracted to mine for my vigour and power—your Saiyajin senses and urges quite strong, like you—you will always eventually reject me. That is as it should be. It is a gift that ordinary souls relinquish too easily only to follow typical, destructive patterns of karma… My Namek parent told me there are few souls that are truly and holistically courageous, no matter their form or stance in life. But for those that are and persevere, they will eventually find that which makes them whole… Do not lose your chance to be whole, happy or steal his away, Piccolo-san,” finished Zhulong more respectfully to him than he had all day, before shooting off into the sky in a blast of agitated Ki; the scent of his agitation and lament lingering upon the air and stinging Piccolo’s nose uncomfortably.

Though, at least Piccolo was finally clear about a few things—Zhulong was an annoying but decent person, and Gohan had much deeper feelings for him than he had ever believed possible, which he should have been able to accurately perceive on his own. He really needed to get the hang of his Saiyajin senses… But most importantly, he knew for certain he loved Gohan with his whole being; that if he continued to hurt Gohan by being a coward, he would never forgive himself. No matter how anxious he was, now that he knew, he had to muster his courage.

Zhulong he would have to speak with again another time. He could tell that although he was quite strapping, he was young and that his hopes had been shattered far too many times in his young life; not unlike another certain someone he knew. That just would not do.

Piccolo found his courage then. Blasting off into the sky, Piccolo made his way towards the Tenkai; an urgent need to see his dear pupil more pressing than ever.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	4. Fumbling in Love, War and… Pieces? Part 1

When Dende uncharacteristically smirked at him, following up with elbowing him playfully once in proximity; Piccolo frowned. He did not care if Earth’s Kami was acting out because he had witnessed the stolen kiss between him and Zhulong nor if Gohan had possibly said something to him; either way, he had better watch it. And in fact, he did go along with his urge to growl at Dende; nonplussed when the suddenly personality-upped young Kami had merely smiled up at him warmly before winking. As if…wishing him luck? _Ugh._   

Piccolo gave up communicating with the young teen god then and earnestly made his way toward a very precious Ki signature within the Temple. Ready or not, here he comes.

The moment Gohan felt Piccolo’s presence touch ground on Kami-sama no Shinden his form began to shake anxiously; his heart beating resoundingly fast in his chest, his antennae still trembling even after he demanded his body to calm. He could not believe Piccolo had come so soon! He had thought for certain that with his shishou’s warrior machismo yet conflicting sensitive proclivities that he would have to be the one to go to him; willing to hold out for the morrow. But here he was, just moments from his door; causing a thorough lump to build in Gohan’s throat as heightened emotions made him stand and pace nervously in anticipation.

Piccolo swallowed thickly as his fist lifted to knock on Gohan’s sky blue door; he actually flinched when Gohan told him he could enter before he really got to, swallowing once more before turning the clear round crystalline knob and going inside.

Deep shimmering onyx met onyx for the longest seeming moment before Gohan finally signalled Piccolo to sit on his cobalt hued plush sofa with him. Piccolo did so awkwardly, sighing as he did so, his hands automatically folding in his lap with his nerves as he strove to keep his long powerful legs from quaking; weighted moments passing before both heads finally looked up and turned toward the other resolutely.

 

Piccolo-san, I am sorry for the way I’ve been acting.

Gohan, I am sorry for my recent behaviour.

 

The truth is I really love and am in love with you and have been for some time…

The truth is that I care for you more than I ever have anyone; that I burn so to touch you in ways a shishou ought not to…

 

… My world racked because I do not know how to convey that to you without losing you…               

 …It racking my world because you’ll always deserve so much better than me…

 

“. . .”                                       

“. . .”

 

Both had to pause then. They had both been thinking so hard before speaking that they had simultaneously picked up the other’s thoughts without trying; it taking a slight moment to fully process what they had both unwittingly conveyed to each other, their gaze on one another piercing. Both were astounded once full realisation set in. For, even though they had wanted to believe it to be true, it had not become real until confessed by the other.

Though neither was more simultaneously incredulous and solemnly perturbed than Piccolo. He had never believed anyone could positively feel for him with as much positive verve and sincerity as Gohan always seemed to exude for him, even that very moment, that anyone would ever want to truly share their life with him; his long powerful tail puffing out to a sickeningly kawaii state as he felt wave after wave of it wash over him. For a long moment Piccolo was truly breathless, wholly unsure of how to proceed. For he still could not fully grasp the concept that someone as pure and amazing as Gohan could possess so much emotion and tenderness for someone like him; that anyone would _really_ _love_ _him_ _so_ …

“Please stop thinking so badly of yourself Piccolo-san. You are amazing beyond words; do not let anyone ever tell you different. I-I… D-does this mean… W-will you go out with me?” asked Gohan tentatively, his eyes shimmering with profound emotion and apprehension, tears almost falling.

Piccolo paused for a long moment; looking away before returning his eyes to Gohan. He had never been able to stand the boy’s tears. But neither did he think that… “I do not understand what you could possibly see in me; why you have come to such a conclusion… But I know with sheer conviction that I want for your happiness…” …far more than I ever could my own.

Gohan frowned then as Piccolo paused while striving with unusual difficulty to find the right words. He could see it in his eyes. Piccolo did not want to hurt him, but neither did he really think they ought to be together as he hoped. He could not help it then; hot painful tears falling without his say as emotion became too great, though his resolve became fiercer than ever. If Piccolo did not really want to be with him, that was one thing. But he could feel in his heart otherwise was true. Piccolo would not admit it, but he was afraid—of the future, of what them being together would fully mean and possibly come to.

Wiping his eyes and grasping his courage, Gohan began again, “Do you love me Piccolo-san? Honestly tell me please, would you accept all of me as I do you? Would you try for us? Could we try to begin a life together? I yearn to share my whole life with you. I do hope to marry you one day and would even give you children if you wish. I do love you so very much. _No one_ can _ever_ change that, nor could any ever take your place. But please do not relent just to appease me. _Please_ _tell me how you_ _truly feel_? Do we have a chance? Do want to be with me, Piccolo-san?” he asked with more conviction than he ever had anything in his life.

Piccolo’s widened eyes laid on him heavily then; his face scrunching up as Gohan’s determination-eclipsed sorrow ebbed throughout him, becoming his own, the immense conviction there too throwing him. Yes, he did care for the young man more than his own life, probably more than he would anyone or anything ever. But he had such a weighted past, was still such a sometimes harried complex soul. Would such truly make for Gohan’s happiness, be what was best for him? Look how much he had hurt him already! And still he yearned, pleaded for his honest answer.

Piccolo knew in that moment without a doubt that he loved his dearest deshi and best friend far more than words or numbers could possibly convey. But he also believed with the same breath, that even though he would give his all for him, Gohan would always deserve better than him. The conflicting ruminations would not leave his wearied mind. But, he felt he could stand Gohan’s patient sorrow no longer; finally opting for the truth to escape his lips. “Yes, there is a chance. I can promise nothing. But your feelings are not at all unrequited,” Piccolo conveyed firmly, his deep ebony eyes still piercing Gohan’s.

Piccolo bristled when Gohan wrapped him firmly in an ardent embrace; overwhelmed at the deluge of emotions he could feel him passing from him to himself. Even his worst enemies had never felt so strongly for him at the other end of the spectrum. He still did not fully understand how Gohan could feel so overwhelmingly immensely for him; how—

“For you Piccolo-san, I love you just for being you,” uttered Gohan sincerely, his eyes still shimmering as he pulled enough away to peer lovingly into the wondrous eyes of his shishou.

Piccolo’s eyes did water then; though he did not let the tears fall. Words seemed far too inadequate, but he still attempted them for Gohan. His poor deshi—now Koibito?—was in great need of reassurance and comfort. “Same to you Kid, same to you,” he answered honestly, his voice uncannily cracking as the words trickled out, him finally giving in to the powerfully persistent urge to press his full lips to Gohan’s, more for comfort than anything, relishing the heated and relieved moan that erupted from him, slightly distraught that it was his fault their first kiss tasted of tears; before both eased a little away for breath.

Relief permeated both of their beings as they did nothing more than hold each other close, silently for an undisclosed amount of time; their heartbeats beginning to move in sync, becoming one stronger drum of life as the dissonance finally dissipated.  

Piccolo let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding once Gohan finally pulled away enough to gaze at him thoughtfully; feeling _much_ too warm inside.

Gohan scrutinised him then curiously. Piccolo seemed relieved, disappointed, and somehow like he was on the verge of bursting all at once, so Gohan remained patient and left himself open for Piccolo to convey whatever he needed to.

“Gohan… I have been realising things about myself that I probably never would have in my Namek body…things that are exciting but pressingly unnerving… Please understand, romance is something that never exceptionally crossed my mind much before. And even though I had natural urges as a Namek—like any sexual reproducing being—I had so thoroughly hardened myself for the prime directive of destroying your father, taking over the world, and of just being the grandest most powerful warrior so profoundly, that I stopped consciously acknowledging them at all; even long after I no longer had the desire to defeat him or the thirst for world domination. I never dreamed someone would ever genuinely want me in such a way, let alone love. But, as usual, you succeeded in shattering all that which I thought I knew. And I am grateful you did… But please, let’s take it slow. I have pushed away out of fear of losing you as my dearest friend and pupil…”

Piccolo paused a short moment then; Gohan smirking slightly as Piccolo’s cheeks seemed to darken some more if possible, relishing that he could still minutely tell when he blushed.

“… Although I am significantly attracted to you, in many ways, I care for you too much for us to just go at each other like animals. If I am really what you want, what would be your happiness as you are mine, we need not rush,” he finally confessed, sighing deeply before peering at Gohan earnestly; striving to gauge his feelings through the storm brewing within himself.

His insides seemed to flutter as Gohan smiled at him then so brilliantly he thought he might implode; in awe that the simple hug that followed made him feel so uncannily happy and complete he almost swooned, begging him to question just why he had ever let fear have any say in his actions.

“That’s fine Piccolo-san. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” answered Gohan with a seemingly un-shakeable smile then, beaming as he continued ardently embracing the person he loved most in the universe, finally fully believing everything would work out just fine.

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“Oh stop it Vegeta. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Speak for yourself Onna! You know how sensitive a Saiyajin nose is. I will not be able to sleep like this. This is _my_ house and Earthlings stink enough. Now I have to tolerate a myriad of odours of lifeforms from all around the universe, and feel their annoying Kis tromp about Capsule Corp. as if it were their home. It’s unacceptable!” growled the peeved prince, folding his arms in the usual fashion and grunting more of his displeasure as he sat up in their bed like a grumpy flame-haired child.

“Well Vegeta, this _is_ their home for the time being. And if the scent of Earthlings is that distasteful to you, you might want to get out of my bed and house,” she countered smugly, even smirking a bit as she glared at him.

“You know damn well that’s not what I mean Onn—,” the last of his sentence was cut off as Bulma pulled him to her into a sultry kiss, clipping his thoughts and silencing any further complaints for the night as she kept him occupied with more delicious activities. Yes, it was good to be “queen”.

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A tiny demi-Namekkuseijin gazed up wistfully at the clear night sky; a quiet sigh seeping from him as his young mind would allow him no rest.

“What ails you Brother?” asked his elder sibling softly, striving not to wake up the other young ones currently under his trusted watch; Trunks and Goten earlier not taking “no” for an answer for a backyard sleepover under the stars at Capsule Corp., both genuinely fascinated with the Namek/Saiyajin hybrid siblings.

“This planet is beautiful…”

“But?”

“They are strange. We are strangers from even other worlds and they let us in their homes and hearts just like that. It’s so—”

“Nice? Yes, they are a peculiar bunch after all the cruelty, ignorance, and spiritual ineptitude we’ve encountered throughout the universe. But I bet you are happy they are… Do you not think this place could be home, Fucanglong?”

“Yeah, it could b—,” just then his answer was stunted, an uncanny expression painting his young face, causing his big brother Zhulong to peer at him questioningly.

“I like you… Fu-cang-looong…” the sleep-garbled speech from little Goten catching both their attentions, “stay with us… and…” his innocent voice continued, his grip on Fucanglong’s tail tightening enough to make his eyes widen to comical proportions.

“Brother… please make him let go,” whispered the little Namek/Saiyajin hybrid in distress.

“Of course Fucang,” answered Zhulong, delicately moving to pry Goten’s small but powerful fingers from his little brother’s tail, both letting out a sigh when it was done.

“See, they’ve already taken a liking to you. And—”

Fucanglong only attempted speech again once he had caught his breath; interrupting his brother. “This is a nice world Brother. I think I will like it here… I just miss…” he sniffed unable to finish his sentence as tears brimmed in his young eyes once more.

“I know Fucang, as do I. But we must learn to honour our late parents by living on, even without them. I know it is not easy, but please try and smile, huh?”

“Okay Zhu, I’ll try,” answered the little half-Namek, sniffing before climbing into his brother’s lap, sighing when his brother’s hand gently settled on his head and began tenderly petting his soft but strong Saiyajin spikes of hair.       

“This is a good new start for us all.”

“Hm.”

And in moments the young demi-Namek fell asleep in his strapping yet kind big brother’s lap; his tail curling and furling as he was finally able to dream.

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Gohan could not help but grin as he continued to intently observe his new… _boyfriend?_ slumber. They had slept (only sleep) together in his room in Kami’s Temple after their talk; it quite the surreal experience. For, it had to be the first time they rested with each other in a place and mind that had absolutely nothing to do with battle; making Gohan smile, the deep intimacy of such a thing relevant beyond words. And as Gohan gazed upon his new mate, even with the new Saiyajin look of Piccolo’s person, one could surely tell it was Piccolo one was looking at. No face was more powerful, majestic, and yet still gracefully beautiful in Gohan’s eyes. Even though his brow ridges were no longer as protruding, and now each was garbed in a thick regal line of Saiyajin hair for brow, they still exuded might, magic, and wonder for his face. His ears too, though smaller and less pointed were still amazing to behold. And damn if Piccolo didn’t appear delectable with or without a head of thick wild black Saiyajin locks. And Gohan was more than grateful for all of that. But it was his mind, his soul that always had Gohan coming back for more.

He knew of no other person who was such a complex yet decidedly kind, honourable soul. Knowing much of Piccolo’s and his father’s history, Gohan knew there were so many other ways things could have turned out. He was so glad certain scenarios never came to pass; that they had both grown so thoroughly from their beginnings that nothing could taint their way, not even themselves. And no longer able to contain himself, he bent down and pressed his lips to Piccolo’s dark forehead between his two uniform front fringes of hair before gently pulling away; in silent admiring awe of the majestic dark eyes that opened to peer at him intently, the one part of his beloved that thankfully hadn’t changed at all.

Piccolo finally sat up then, taking Gohan with him, yearning immensely to say something to fit the moment. But the loud grumbling of his Saiyajin stomach beat him to the punch; causing thick embarrassment to plague his person. Gohan only smiled at him knowingly; giving a light peck on the lips before jumping up from bed and stretching. “Well, Piccolo-san, I think breakfast would be in order,” Gohan quipped playfully, loving the way Piccolo’s powerful tail puffed out so kawaii behind him, sure he was flushing then as he looked away.

Piccolo only grunted in reply before standing himself and getting a bit of morning stretch, flexing his tail as well as he calmed himself through advanced training techniques it had taken years to master. “Yeah well, after we wash up and eat, I expect a decent spar from you. Understand?” he uttered gruffly, attempting to keep his usual air about him despite their new relationship and the overwhelming feelings attached.

“Fine with me,” answered Gohan, his Namek brow ridges lifting with the real smile his face became. The corners of Piccolo’s mouth could not help but lift too then; the both of them moving after to begin a new day.            

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	5. Fumbling in Love, War and… Pieces? Part 2

Goten and Trunks watched on in awe—the way young children who idolised their personal heroes do—as Piccolo, Gohan, Goku and Vegeta commenced in a free-for-all training battle. Sparks flew as three mighty Saiyajin and one awesome Namek went at each other with as much as they could without causing too much damage to Earth. Sparks flew, heads were knocked, bones clicked and flesh vibrated along with the charged air particles around them; as the adept and deadly dance went on ardently.

Though he itched to join them, Zhulong observed evermore studiously, learning as much as he could from each mighty senshi as they each moved with dangerous deliberate precision and well-earned grace.

Little Fucanglong watched with wide amazed eyes; his little tail curling with the excitement. There was not a mean, battle bone in his tiny body. But he looked up to and respected his big brother immensely. Knowing that martial arts intrigued him and their late parents, Fucanglong wanted to learn more about them to be closer to all of them somehow; making his sharp young mind record each and every nuance that occurred.

After a good twenty minutes, Trunks and Goten got fed up with being mere spectators; the two of them sneakily going off to the side in the brush to perform the Metamoru Fusion Dance. Moments later, a cheeky demi-Saiyajin garbed in white baggy pants, black Kung Fu shoes, and a blue, gold and black hued vest; with black vertical hair, with a thick lavender stripe through it, and mischievously smirking dark eyes took to the sky where the battle accelerated; powering up to Super to get everyone’s attention.

“Not one of you has what it takes to defeat Super Gotenks! Yay!” the young fused uncannily double-voiced Super Saiyajin quipped haughtily, fists akimbo on his hips as he challenged the four with his now shining teal eyes.

Zhulong and Fucanglong both had dropped jaws and bulging eyes. They had never witnessed such a merging before, let alone the battles taking place around them, both in genuine awe.

Piccolo and Goku were too immersed in their own evolved one-on-one to give attention to the squirts. Something intense in their eyes gave way to their past relationship. The battle they had never truly finished was finally underway; the fierce warrior in either of them not allowing anyone to interfere. But Vegeta was seething enough at having a once-was-Namek being a stronger, more powerful Saiyajin than himself; deciding to take it out on the Namek Gohan, coming at him in a barrage of punishing hits and kicks; which Gohan received and blocked masterfully, providing much of his own keenly executed blows in return.

Gotenks was getting pretty peeved at being ignored. Though, once he observed the two sets of seriously battling fighters more closely, instinct let him know not to bother Goku and Piccolo; him playfully cutting in to Vegeta and Gohan’s bout instead with a sharp right uppercut on Vegeta, knocking him upwards; and a swift mean kick to Gohan’s stomach, beginning to jab at him like a jackhammer before he could catch his breath. 

You want to play rough, do you? Alright brat, you got it, thought Vegeta irately; powering up to his highest state then—a fiercely ascended Super Saiyajin 2. Though, the fierce ikari in him rose exponentially as he felt Piccolo, Goku and Gotenks suddenly ascend beyond him to Super Saiyajin 3. The utter hate, disgust and wrath he felt for himself then for being even a step behind them, for having even a fused hyped up child being able to achieve such before him; made his power skyrocket; momentarily stealing the attention of all there.

Vegeta’s fists and teeth clenched as raw, golden, absurdly extraordinary power writhed through him like a typhoon on steroids. He grimaced; as it was painful but wonderful beyond words! And as he felt the aggravating tell-tale cusp of power, he dared take it further. Piccolo was still stronger, more powerful than them all; an ascended Super Saiyajin 3 on the cusp of another transformation in power none of them had even fathomed. Something Vegeta’s pride just would not let go of. He had been able to finally accept Kakarotto’s naturally surpassing talent. But for a being not originally a Saiyajin to master it better than any of them, was completely unacceptable!

Vegeta struggled with his all to bring out more; grunting and even screaming, enduring the unhealthy agony and anger to ascend to that magnificence he could feel was possible beyond the threshold. But as spots began to fill his vision, he knew he just wasn’t quite ready for it; growling in frustration as he strove to at least hold on to his first Super Saiyajin 3 transformation.

“Uh-uh-uh, Old Man! You’ve got to ‘acknowledge your own limits so you can learn from them and get better in time’,” quipped Gotenks haughtily, rubbing a finger under his nose smugly as he repeated things Vegeta and other Z Senshi had told both brats who made up Gotenks, at one time or another. But the cheeky fused brat was harshly decked and tossed into the hard ground below from behind by Gohan.

“Here’s another lesson: never take your awareness off your opponents. No matter how powerful you might believe yourself or current state of being to be; it only takes one moment, one opening for a mendacious dastardly honourless enemy to make your world come crashing down,” said Gohan seriously; regretful moments from his past battles running through the front of his mind, as he had never fully gotten over the fact that Piccolo had died for him once, and his father had died years ago, that he could have done more for Piccolo when the Saiyajin had first arrived, that he could have destroyed Cell without having had to lose anyone for any amount of time, not to mention the whole Majin Boo fiasco; his determination to lesson the chibis adamantine then.

Aware of where things were heading, Piccolo and Goku commenced their own fight once more; well-earned muscle wrapped in immaculate ebony Saiyajin skin pounding diligently upon similar muscle wrapped in creamy tan Saiyajin skin, and vice versa; super keen energy-bleached teal eyes of both determined to continue until their battle was truly finished this time; both their Saiyajin blood and distinct warrior spirits urging them to the brink.

Gotenks shook his head vigorously to get the debris of crushed earth from it; rubbing his swollen cheek before rising up to meet Gohan again. “Hey! That was a cheap shot!” he called quite peeved.

“There is no such thing as fair in war; feckless honourless dastards who like to incompetently play ‘God’, but who only actually prove with their every breath to be weak primitive demons, make sure of that,” answered Gohan matter-of-factly, taking a serious stance once more. Gotenks stuck his tongue out at Gohan before rushing at him foolishly in his youthful anger and frustration.

Vegeta growled to himself but was eventually able to calm himself enough to maintain his new Super Saiyajin 3 transformation, swiftly flying to cut in on SS3 Gotenks and equally powerful Super Namekkuseijin Gohan.

All the while Zhulong and Fucanglong had dropped jaws as they observed from their spot on the ground while the others fought amazingly in the air; just reeling at all the extraordinary things they had just and were continuing to witness. Wow. They had had no idea such levels of power were possible; for Nameks or Saiyajins. It was all invigoratingly extraordinary; giving excited hope to each young demi-Namek. With this many incredible beings with decent hearts on Earth, perhaps it really could be home; perhaps they might be happy once again and even safe.

Red and purple, blood, sweat and spit spewed from both Gotenks and Gohan; the haughty fused youth getting taken by a hard revenge uppercut and Gohan taken by a surprisingly swifter than he had thought would come roundhouse kick; both younger fighters trying to shake free of the real throbbing smarts received from Vegeta and return to the fight.

Earth trembled under the mighty onslaught. Piccolo and Goku continued giving as much as they could to each other without destroying the earth. Coruscating power crackled from each of their persons, continuing to light up their immaculate skin, lengthened hair and fur, and distinctly hued-by-power teal eyes. Radiating fists rushed faster than any human eye could see and pounded into some of the only flesh in the universe that could extraordinarily hold up solidly after being bombarded repeatedly with so many unforgiving kilograms of pressure and radiation per square centimetre. One mighty fist each collided with the face of the other fighter with precision as deadly as their power; making particles click. Thick rich Saiyajin blood trickled down full lips for a minute pause, which both sets were curving upwards in an identical smirk that revealed each warrior’s honest enjoyment of the battle taking place between them. From there, masterful hits, kicks and parries continued to ensue; lighting up Earth’s sky and each warrior’s spirit.

Little did any of them know the entire thing was being precisely recorded and relayed to the labs of an unknown, less than laudable genius, through a specific satellite.

After a solid hit to the solar plexus and an unforgiving two-fisted blow from behind, Piccolo finally sent Goku flying towards the earth; making another marring crater in her. He quickly flew to and locked Goku’s brawny legs with his own then, also locking his arms above his head as he smirked down at him victoriously. “Say it,” he commanded firmly, somewhat smug but mostly just pleased. He had always known if he was given the same chance, he would beat Goku.

Goku grimaced and continued to struggle, his own stubborn pride not abating—that was, until he saw a genuinely smiling Piccolo beaming over top him in victory. Had Piccolo always been so…? He felt thick warmth pool his gut and travel lower then. The intense urge to—

“Say it Son,” urged Piccolo again, his rare curved smile not waning.

Goku licked his lips as he gazed into Piccolo’s immaculate ebony face. He wanted to…with Piccolo?!  Yada! He had to go! “M-maitta!” finally admitted Goku. He had definitely lost this fight. He would just have to train to be much better in the future. And with an extraordinary challenge like Piccolo, he could surely become stronger.

Piccolo finally let up then and stood; letting go of his powerful ascended SS3 transformation, helping Goku up and smirking smugly; his eyes shining with a new lightness he usually never allowed to show fully in his demeanour. “Was that so bad, Goku?” he asked feeling so damn good, he even used Goku’s first name with familiarity. But before Goku could answer, Gohan jetted in between them and rammed Piccolo back down into the dirt, having flown to him so swiftly his teeth almost clicked; kissing him fiercely, passionately, _territorially_. 

Vegeta immediately began busting up in a fit of much needed laughter; being the last to let go of his Super Saiyajin transformation entirely as every battle was decidedly over. He knew better than anyone just how possessive a Saiyajin could be of one thought of as a true mate; especially since was rare for Saiyajin to mate for any reasons but producing offspring and settling natural urges. Apparently the same was true of Namekkuseijin, if Gohan was anything to go by; the current scene entertaining if nothing else. Their fusion time up, two roughed up chibis stood blinking incredulously where Gotenks had been; both beginning to make teasing kissy-kissy noises once they saw Gohan atop Piccolo, before whining as their battle injury pangs began to take them in throes. Zhulong’s jaw was still dropped as he held his hand over his littler brother’s eyes, to protect what was left of his innocence. Goku was blushing quite severely; the tightening in his underwear and heat swirling within him making him feel much too hot and bothered. He needed his wife then, making him blush even harder at the thought. He really hoped she would be interested this time…

“Why don’t you fly back with Trunks and Vegeta to Capsule Corp. for lunch Goten,” said Goku more than asked. “Tell Bulma I’ll owe her if she keeps ya for a few hours, ’kay?”

Of course, Goten had no problem with this; always eager to be where Trunks was, nodding his head exuberantly, Trunks feeling the same. Vegeta, however, was glaring at Goku harshly; his eyes narrowing as the scent of pure male Saiyajin arousal tufted his nostrils; a strong smirk menacingly etching his face then. “You will owe me one too, Kakarotto,” quipped Vegeta smugly, guffawing as he watched Goku knowingly blush an even deeper shade of red if possible as his tail furled behind him embarrassedly, taking to the sky, urging the brats and Zhulong and his brother to follow him out of the vast outstretch of wasteland.

Goku had attempted a short farewell greeting to his eldest son and Piccolo, but ended up grunting in exasperation and taking off for home. Hopefully Chichi would be in the mood.

It was only after everyone else had left and Gohan had kissed his lips swollen, that he finally eased away and let Piccolo sit up; smirking at the uncanny state he put his love in. “I love you Piccolo,” he said with pure conviction, his dark eyes shining with pride and claim.

Piccolo tried to refocus his breathing, but Gohan had done a number on him no battle could. “You know how I feel for you too, but that was a little…and in front of the kids Gohan?”

Gohan looked away somewhat ashamed; his Namek cheeks glowing purple with his shame. “I could smell, feel that my father was aroused by you… I’ll admit it; I got a little possessive then. I am sorry for the tactlessness of my behaviour but not that I love you,” admitted Gohan with shimmering eyes.

Piccolo eyes twitched at learning Goku had been attracted to him beyond battle and friendship; a small frown infiltrating his face. He doubted he would ever be able to fight him the same again knowing. Though, he was finally veritably pleased that Gohan felt so strongly for him, and it was certainly mutual. He just wasn’t ready to take it further just yet. “Lunch,” uttered Piccolo, as if nothing else needing saying.

Gohan nodded his head in understanding. “Yeah, I could go for a cool drink right about now.” And they both shared a real smile then before taking off for Kami’s Temple together; not holding hands but flying side by side.

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“So, I hear you ascended further today Vegeta. What was it like?” asked Bulma truly curious.

“Hn,” grunted Vegeta exasperated, masticating his mouthful of food more arduously. Annoying onna. Try for once _not_ to ruin my meal.

“I see you’re enjoying that lasagne. You know, it was Tomillo who made it and the delectable dessert with his life-partner Oregano; the Karasujin that came along with Zhulong’s group. You should have seen my mother with them in the kitchen. It was hilarious because she’s always so flirty, but they just don’t ‘swing’ that way, and are only very much in love with each other,” continued Bulma, beginning a round of actual soft laughter.

Vegeta frowned then, swallowing another bite before looking up and answering. “Do you find it amusing to disrupt my meals onna?”

Bulma frowned then too, the levity draining from her physiognomy. “I noticed you were enjoying the food more than usual and was trying to have a pleasant moment with you, jackass! Can you not be an obnoxious little prick for one moment?!”

Vegeta smirked then; his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’d say you like my prick just find onna.” His smirk only grew when Bulma’s eyes widened and her entire face took on a bright rose hue.

“Jerk!” she exclaimed, moving to go out of the room and away from “His Highness”. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth the effort. But before she could plant another step, a tenacious, long, furry appendage pulled her closer by her arm and then wrapped around her waist possessively. “Vegeta—” Her breath caught in her throat when her eyes lay on the rare softer, more thoughtful expression on Vegeta’s face.

“The food is better. And at least those two birds are earning their keep here. What about the other twenty-six interlopers? They have been here for a month now. Has everyone found their niche or what?” he asked with actual interest, knowing the woman obviously wanted to talk, and wanting to know when the hell they’d be out of _his_ house.

The almost innocent grin and affectionate pet to his regal vertical locks Bulma gave him made the tolerance worth it. Though he had thought it a weakness at first—as he had been conditioned to believe most his life—Vegeta had come to care for and even love his oddly accepting Earthling family. There was almost nothing he wouldn’t do for them; though he’d be damned before ever admitting it aloud.

“Interlopers, Vegeta? They are not that bad. And yes, to answer your question. Everyone has been pulling their own weight in some form or fashion. Most of them work quite well in my labs. Zhulong and Fucanglong have even helped me with some of my research. Little Fucanglong can use Namek Materialisation to manifest any jewel or metal in the universe at will. They’ve both been helpful in letting me learn more about Saiyajin and Namek hybrids, and certain elements of the universe not indigenous to Earth. They truly are extraordinary.

“And well, humans are still pretty primitive compared to the rest of the universe. I mean, look at how many of us still hate and denigrate each other for no good reason; heinous lies, false histories, and illusions of power and superiority rampant. The horrific domination and terror tactics still happening on Earth are evident proof that humans are still quite the pernicious, primitive race. So, since none of his crowd passes for human visually, I think it would be safest for Zhulong and his group to stay with us. We have more than enough room. And after talking with them, they’ve all been through enough already, and they more than pull their own weight around here. Though never low, Capsule Corporation stocks are up higher than they’ve been in years thanks to their collective aid in various areas of expertise.”

“Hn,” grunted Vegeta, contemplative then as he peered up at the ceiling. “The universe is still a very noxiously primitive place in general onna; it’s not just Earth,” he admitted seriously, all the people and species he had met or destroyed under corrupt and false doctrines in his past painfully flashing in the front of his mind. “It is easier to continue to destroy and be evil than to pull out of cowardly ignorance and own up to being a wicked, feckless, craven fool and tool for the unworthy; to own up to the truth, that you’re horribly wrong and weak in all that you’ve done and chosen.

“Ignorant fools, dastards and the desperate are easier to convert and control, and most so-called-intelligent beings are innately followers before leaders; following the worst, wickedest, least fit persons for survival and guidance; perpetuating heinous, fallacious cycles which inevitably eventually destroy all for naught; separation the greatest and most foolish illusion to hold prime. Yet most choose to believe and perpetuate the lies.

“But there are those few who educate themselves and refuse to relinquish their souls; those who continually live honourable, decently and fight for what is right with their entire beings, despite what horrors that might be forced upon them by the cravenly immoral and spiritually inept powers that be; teaching us all what true courage, wonder and worthwhile really is.

“I suppose it won’t be so bad to have the lot around,” he finished with a grunt.

Bulma peered at Vegeta in silent awe a moment; relieved his profound dark eyes were gazing above instead of upon her just then. This was the most he had openly spoken to her in all the time they had known one another. He had really grown incredibly as a person since first coming to Earth, and she was immensely proud of him for not giving up during the harsh journey of personal growth. Moving in to kiss his full lips affectionately; she was sincerely glad he was not only on their side, but part of her family; smiling as he deepened the kiss and pulled her body closer to sit on his lap.

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Chichi peered up at the ceiling with wide eyes. Goku had just finished making love with her in many ways, multiple times. And for once, it was _really_ good. She had never climaxed that much or that hard in her life; leaving her truly speechless as her body still tingled. And the fact that her Goku still had that much passion for her, made both her heart and ego swell. She had really needed the reaffirmation. For Goku, as his Saiyajin genes dictated, still looked like a young twenty-year-old, and they hadn’t really been together since before his return from Other World. But the hand of time and circumstance could easily be seen to have begun taking effect on her. There just weren’t words enough to convey how pleasantly warm and relieved she felt at not only being loved but still being wanted, desired by him.

“I love you Goku-sa,” she whispered earnestly, laying her head of loose raven locks on his broad chest, greatly enjoying their most extraordinary afterglow together.

“I love you too Chichi,” he whispered back honestly, holding her affectionately in his arms. Thank you for always putting up with me. I know it’s not always easy, and I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me and our boys. But, I’ll do the best with the life I have left to try.

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Gohan swallowed thickly as Piccolo came out from the shower with one aqua hued towel around his waist and another he was using to dry his thick Saiyajin locks. The thick wave of lust and want was automatic. Perhaps his idea of them having some quiet time together after dinner and a shower wasn’t the best idea. Or, at least he should have waited to come into Piccolo’s room until he was completely dressed.

“Gohan,” began Piccolo flushing significantly, his grand tail furling in his angst, “if you are going to be in here, could you at least turn around until I’m dressed. You know I can’t just manifest clothes onto myself anymore.”

Gohan flushed a vibrant purple then; sputtering an incoherent apology as he turned around awkwardly. Of course Piccolo is not comfortable being completely nude in front of you yet. You inconsiderate baka!

Gohan’s thoughts continued to roil in the same direction until he felt a magnificent yet gentle hand touch his shoulder. “So, what did you want to do?” asked Piccolo seriously, his face so taut with nerves Gohan thought it might break.

“What do you do besides train and meditate? I want to really get to know all of you Piccolo. I yearn for us to be comfortable together, whether or not we say or do a thing.”

Piccolo’s face softened then to both their relief; a slight smile curving up one side of his elegant face as he gestured for Gohan to sit on his grand purple and gold bed with him. “There are many things I do, depending on the day and time. I can read and write in multiple languages, draw, and paint, cultivate certain plants, and I can play a tad on the piano,” answered Piccolo amicably enough, his keen eyes gauging Gohan intently. “It was the one instrument my Namek ears before could handle without making me go mad… Music can be soothing, depending on the type and who’s performing. I love the sound of most string instruments, but the piano was the one I taught myself to play. It can be good therapy when one is stressed or overtaxed.”

Gohan wasn’t surprised Piccolo was so amazing, just a little saddened he hadn’t known he could do any of that. It was surely good they were dating. There was much more they needed to learn from and about each other.

“May I see some of your paintings?” Gohan grinned at the kawaii blush that he could still witness grace his love’s face.

“Sure Gohan,” answered Piccolo quaintly soft, walking across his grand fit-for-royalty room and beginning to rummage through a certain grand, larger than him hardwood cabinet.

As the two of them sat on Piccolo’s huge bed, amongst a nice stack of wrapped paintings, both sets of eyes shined for different reasons; Gohan’s for the chance to really become closer to his intended, and Piccolo because he was actually being allowed the chance to open up and share parts of his true self, without feeling as if he were less or weak for doing so. No one in the universe could make him feel so magnificently overwhelmed and free at the same time, and he was grateful for it more than words could ever be adequate enough to convey.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	6. A Night on the Town

“Gohan, you can’t be serious,” grumbled Piccolo quite peeved, a huge sweat-drop over his brow. He had witnessed and endured on many occasions how people looked at him in public when he had been Namek. Now that he was Saiyajin wouldn’t make much difference with how the general public would receive him. He had a tail and was as healthily pigmented as he had been as a Namek. The difference was he was melanised as a Saiyajin would be, so the pigment was of the hues of Saiyajin, whose pigmentation and appearance were more similar to humans. From what he’d seen and experienced, many humans were still extraordinarily foolish, ignorant and dastardly; ostracising, maiming and even murdering their own human kind, using the fact that they look somewhat different as a poor excuse to do cowardly evils they would have done anyway, with the way their miniscule minds work. Just how on Earth was Gohan thinking about going out into such a still noxiously primitive society? Granted that both of them could easily take out any human foolish enough to try them, a million times over, but, how could Gohan be comfortable? He was Namek now and would be treated as such. Though his face never gave it away, Piccolo had never been fully comfortable in public, his new appearance not changing that a bit…  

Gohan just grinned at him playfully, giving him an annoying thumbs-up. “It’ll be fine Piccolo-san. You’ll see. Now come here so I can manifest a suit that will fit you.”

Piccolo frowned, even pouting some, making Gohan grin even more playfully. But he reluctantly did as he was told, almost shuddering at the veritable chemistry and natural warmth quite evident between them, even though they weren’t touching.

After it was done and Piccolo looked down at himself, he gave Gohan a flat look, his serious dark eyes boring into Gohan’s harshly. “Gohan, omae—”

“Please Pic? I know public places have never been your thing, but you might just have fun this time. Won’t you at least try?”

“You cannot be serious. I do not even like when _you_ dress up as this. Not to mention I am significantly taller and larger than you. No one would believe it. It wouldn’t work. Absolutely not!” But when Gohan gave him those amazing large warm dark eyes, Piccolo’s stomach seemed to kink. “Where on Earth would the two of us go dressed like this? I refuse to play your little ‘hero’ games. Sometimes Chikyuujin need to save themselves,” Piccolo all but growled, folding his arms adamantly.

Gohan grinned sheepishly before answering. No, he hadn’t dressed up as anything even remotely like his Saiyaman suit since that day he and Videl had split ways, his grin becoming wistful as he gazed at Piccolo wearing a grander, modified version of it. “A con,” he answered softly. “I’ve wanted to go to this one for some time, but something always seemed to come up before I got to.” He couldn’t help the smirk that curved his lips at Piccolo’s “I have no idea what you’re talking about” face. “A convention Pic; a place where multitudes of fanatics gather to communicate, have fun, buy and sale related products, see galleries and shows, give and receive awards, get updated on things, meet new people, and all types of stuff related to whatever they’re a fan of; in my case, manga/anime, one in specific. So, since you don’t want to go as Saiyaman, I’ll just tweak our suits a bit and we can go as the awesome duo from my favourite manga.”

Gohan’s eyes just lit up then as he peered up at Piccolo imploringly. Piccolo swallowed thickly as a chill ran up his spine. He pondered then if it was always going to be so difficult to say no to Gohan from now on. But as he felt honest joy emanate from Gohan for this…“con”, the edge of a side of his mouth did curve upwards; a nice glint shining from his strong onyx eyes.

“Fine. But I get to pick the next function we attend.” And as Gohan’s smile grew from ear to ear, pure elation filling his face with love as he gazed up at Piccolo affectionately; Piccolo could not stop himself from pulling Gohan closer, leaning down and kissing his lips sensually, thoroughly relishing the taste and texture of Gohan’s lips, the feel of his immaculate body against his own; both eventually having to push the other away lest they go too far too soon.

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Zhulong grinned contently as he watched his little brother begin to really open up and have fun with Trunks and Goten as the three of them ran around outside Capsule Corp. with all the pure energy of youth. Though the shadow of losing their parents young and all they had went through since then was still evident in his young spirit, Fucanglong was finally allowing his young heart to embrace his new home and the people that were part of it; making Zhulong sigh reflectively, until a certain Saiyajin sat at the same table just across from him.

“Good afternoon Vegeta-san.”

“Hn. What would you be doing now if you could do anything you wished in the universe?” asked Vegeta quite bluntly, something serious in his eyes.

Zhulong’s eyes opened wider, though quickly lowering once more. “Taking care of Fucanglong is alright for now,” answered Zhulong matter-of-factly, still not quite the most comfortable in Vegeta’s presence.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” probed Vegeta more adamantly.

Zhulong peered at Vegeta seriously then, Vegeta’s severe eyes not leaving him.

“There is quite the deal of blood in my aura, Zhulong, as I am sure you’ve already sensed to some degree. I have done many things I am not proud of. But that time has passed, because I finally found the courage to grasp firm hold of that which I truly want and appreciate in life.

“Now I ask once more, what else would you do, if you could?”

Zhulong gazed downward then, a multitude of feelings threatening to inundate his person before he slowly breathed some out. Looking up wistfully at Earth’s nice azure sky, he began, “I would like to holistically be able to move on, for my life to not feel like some weird and cruel dream that someone else is orchestrating for their own evil amusement. Our parents are gone… I do not wish to go into the details of how we lost them. But, I certainly yearn for my younger brother to grow up healthily, strongly and happily. I would like to fight just for fighting’s sake, not because I must, but to be free in exploring my true distinct self; to strengthen my body, spirit and person, and reach limits I might never have dreamed of otherwise. I would also like to have a family of my own someday, a life-mate who would love me and as much as I loved him. 

“But I know better than most that life is anything but a wonderful fairy tale. There are some things I can choose, and others I have to remain strong and endure,” finally answered Zhulong seriously, his eyes moving from the sky to Vegeta.

“Well, there are plenty of viable warriors here that could help with the fighting and physical and mental training from time to time. Though, only you can carve your own path… Why don’t you meet him,” said Vegeta more than asked the last part.

Zhulong peered at him in question. 

“Dende. Earth’s Kami. He’s up in the Tenkai, can’t miss him. I can’t believe no one has taken you to him yet. And despite your initial cheeky airs, you’ve been sickeningly respectful.”

“But—”

“I will take care of Fucanglong,” promised Vegeta seriously. “I know you can sense him, but did not wish to intrude. Do not worry, Dende will enjoy the company. Just get out of here for a while. You are young and full of virile hormones that are beginning to get on my nerves. A lab is no place for you,” Vegeta finished seriously. Even he could acknowledge the Saiyajin blood running through Zhulong’s veins. One day he would get the full story on the brats’ parents.

“Thank you Vegeta-san.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind, brat.”

Zhulong could not help but smile at that. In taking a real interest in him and calling him “brat”, Vegeta had officially dubbed him one of their gang in his own way; something Zhulong would never take for granted.

With a short wave to his younger brother, Zhulong took to the skies; a hopeful new friend his goal, as he could no doubt feel that other Namekkuseijin on the wondrous Temple in the sky.

Bulma gave Vegeta a knowing look of approbation, only speaking to usher the boys in for lunch; Vegeta following moments later after a long look at the sky.

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A huge sweat-drop formed on Piccolo’s forehead as Gohan pleaded with him telepathically to perform the series of poses he had shown him earlier before they had left for the convention. He already felt incredibly uncomfortable in the new getup Gohan had zapped onto him. They were both dressed in skin-tight bodysuits reminiscent of those parts of intergalactic armour worn by Saiyajin and much of the universe. Though his was clean solid black, his tail making a nice furry belt around his waist, and Gohan’s suit was a vibrant yellow-green with a solid white stripe up each arm and a shiny white tool belt around his waist. Both wore gold and white boots and gloves that fit their persons, but Piccolo had a black helmet decorated with small purple wings where the ears would be as part of his costume, as Gohan wore a thick pair of solid dark sunglasses as part of his. And with all that both “looked the part” as Gohan had said. Apparently Gohan did not even need makeup, as he pretty much looked like the character he wanted to, even with antennae; Nameks only different as they were not completely green the whole body over, but the suit easily covered that.

So, they were supposed to be dressed as this super heroic duo from Gohan’s favourite “yaoi” manga. While Piccolo was aware of comic books from around the world, he had no idea what yaoi was, but Gohan seemed to be excited about it, so he endured. And as Gohan smiled at him from his heart, he couldn’t help but return it; bucking up and beginning to go through the poses with his Gohan. No matter how ridiculous he deemed them, such things made Gohan smile, so he did as he was asked, even smiling with him, somewhat relieved that he had a helmet to cover his face.

“Evil cannot overcome the wondrous super powers of Flying Helmet and Midori Rider!” yelled Gohan enthusiastically, Piccolo faced heating as he continued to perform every pose along with Gohan, an inaudible sigh exuding from him once they were through.

“Wow! That is the best Flying Helmet and Midori Rider cosplay I’ve ever seen! You guys even got all the moves down. Cool,” remarked a passer-by whom was dressed as a strange, skimpily dressed purple cat, exuberantly giving them both a grin and thumbs up before looking around the vast convention some more. 

Piccolo slightly grinned as he felt Gohan just beaming. Though, he was taken completely off guard when Gohan suddenly pulled his head down, lifted the visor on his helmet and kissed him fervently. Piccolo felt as if he had just been drenched in a heat wave as Gohan’s tongue slid smoothly against his own; his feet too heavy and light at the same time and his tail moving to curl and wrap around the both of them on its own accord. He felt truly wonderful with Gohan in his arms, so fully alive. Though, both were taken from their intimate reverie as whoops and hollers of approval rang throughout the aggregated crowd. 

Gohan slowly eased back down, looking up at Piccolo sheepishly. “Sorry Piccolo. You just don’t know what you do to me,” he said, biting his lip.

“I think I have a significant idea, Gohan,” answered Piccolo keenly, smirking a bit before pulling the dark visor back over his face. “So, what’s next Gohan?”

“How would you two like to like to participate in the Flying Helmet and Midori Rider contest? Grand prize is 100,000 zeni. What do you say? I think you really got a chance,” interrupted a young dark-haired guy dressed in regular casual dress and prescription glasses.

“What do you think?” Gohan asked Piccolo seriously, yearning for Piccolo to have fun too.

“You know I wouldn’t back down from a challenge,” answered Piccolo, thrilled when Gohan smiled at him warmly, locking an arm around his and following where he led.

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It was uncannily immediate. Dende could feel his heart throbbing in his chest without his say. Through his divine sight he had seen Zhulong. But having him stand near him up close certainly changed the feeling of such. He was…

“I am sorry to intrude, Kami-sama. But I wanted to meet you, the pure spirited Namek Earth’s God. I am sure you know, but I am Zhulong. It is a sincere pleasure to finally meet you,” offered Zhulong sincerely, respectfully bowing before the lovely young Namek garbed gracefully in white Namekkuseijin robes, moccasins and a maroon vest.

Dende’s hand not holding his staff went to his face, his cheeks flushing of their own accord. He had never felt this way before in his life! And though he felt overwhelmed, he didn’t want the novel feelings to stop anytime soon.

“It’s no intrusion Zhulong. It is nice to meet you too. And you may call me Dende,” answered Dende cordially, his eyes shimmering as peered up at the tall strapping young Namek hybrid. Words just weren’t enough.

Zhulong’s heart began to throb too as his eyes locked onto Dende’s. Could it really be, just as his Namek parent had said?

“Would you like to stay for lunch? Even kamis need a break now and again.”

“I would love that Dende. Thank you.”

The warm smile the two shared then permeated each of their teen beings, something rare and profound surely blossoming between the two as they walked leisurely deeper into the Shinden.   

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Trunks and Goten tried to rudely hurry away from the dining table after eating, only to earn a curt displeased grunt and glare from Vegeta. Both boys swallowed thickly before apologising for their rudeness at the table, then going to the kitchen to thank Tomillo and Oregano for the meal; something Fucanglong had done of his own accord earlier before leaving to one of Capsule Corporation’s inner gardens.

“Brats,” grumbled Vegeta, still taking his time to enjoy the last of his meal.

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Trunks’ eyes did not leave Goten as the boy continued to innocently marvel at the virtual world Trunks had brought him to, part of the most advanced VR gaming system on the globe, of course courtesy of Capsule Corp. He could not help but grin as Goten’s eyes lit up at all the awesome virtual sights, his virtual self’s tail curling in his mirth just as his real one was. He was so…

“So Goten, where should we go first? There are so many virtual places we could go, so many things we could do.”

“It’s amazing Trunks! I’m not even sure where to start! You pick,” answered Goten excitedly.

“Well, there is this space adventure program. Since my papa won’t let us go up in a real uchuusen by ourselves, we could do so virtually.”

“Wow! That would be great Trunks! Let’s go!”

Trunks felt lighter than air then as Goten grinned at him in anticipation, his owe tail furling lightly, his hand threading fingers through Goten’s as he lead him up to the hatch of the virtual spaceship, his young heart aflutter.

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Piccolo shook his head as his Gohan continued to make an extra spectacle of himself. He was amused Gohan was still having such a good time, his evident joy only accentuating his own. They had had quite the interesting day together: dressing up, performing, collecting merchandise, watching movies and winning multiple contests at the convention Gohan adored, and more; many events enriching their day. While initially unnerving for Piccolo, it hadn’t been the worst. And feeling Gohan happy made him so too.

But once it had gotten later, Gohan had dressed them again with his materialisation technique in clean casual wear—he in purple long-sleeved T, tucked into black slacks, black buckled belt, socks and nice clean black loafers; and Gohan in indigo hued shirt and socks of same style, shoes, slacks and black belt as well.

All their “catch” of the day had been capsulized until they made it back home. Gohan flying them around the globe until his eyes caught a quaint little place out in the world somewhere, where a tribe of healthily melanised people as dark in pigment as Piccolo and more compassionate, intelligent and humane than most humans choose to be; lived, accepted them with all the warmth they would family; inviting them to join their seasonal celebration, despite Gohan’s obviously strange, non-human appearance. So, they did for hours; dancing, singing, giving praise and prayer to the Universe for healthy flora and fauna, for the healthy balance between all that was natural, pure, genuinely good, worthwhile and true. They were even taught by the nice people how to make their own animal skin drums; Gohan and Piccolo quite pleased that they allowed them to keep them as a parting gift, holding them sacred as they could both feel the positive spiritual energy the good people of the land had imbued them with.

Eventually they had to thank and say their goodbyes to their new friends with warm hearts; Gohan giving them the prize money he and Piccolo had won at the convention half a globe away in thanks. Though they attempted to return it to him, Gohan insisted, knowing it wasn’t much, yearning to give much more; wishing that global society was actually a holistically healthy and just one as it ought to be, instead of the putridly unfair and unjust one it currently was; so that unnecessary evils like the land thievery from and genocide of veritable native peoples, slavery, forced pollution, greed, poverty, inequality, cowardly hate and other craven crimes, began and maintained by the horribly spineless, corrupt, greedy and severely spiritually inept fools—playing false heinous severely incompetent lords instead of actually choosing to be divine, as they always have the choice to be—to maintain false and heinous power holds and perpetuate numerous deceptions they’ve been built upon and their pathetic horribly foolish, ever sycophantic pawns did not exist. There were so many good people unnecessarily suffering and dying in the world who did not deserve it one bit; while shameless, honourless, dishonourably wealthy dastards sat healthy and rich of the work, blood and very lives of others for generations, in so many heinous ways and enterprises, not at all having earned or deserving their overabundance and ill-gotten privilege.

Neither the earth, land, seas, skies nor the lives held within them all were ever meant to raped, contained, stolen, conquered, dominated, monopolised, bought or sold. And yet, the foolish, wicked, cravenly vile and inept still persisted to keep the earth far away from the paradise she could otherwise be. Gohan sincerely wished people would grow up and learn that; would stop passing such false histories, misinformation, dastardly habits and filth down to even their own offspring; only to doom not only their lives, but their very souls.

But at least Gohan did do as he could, while he could. Even as powerful as he was, he could not choose for others; other Earthlings needed to learn to take responsibility for the earth too. And he would certainly have a long talk with Bulma and her father Brief Hakase soon. As head and heir of the wealthiest company on the planet, who could have more recourses or pull? He would see that their new friends got the help they deserved. For, no life ought to be forced to survive unhealthy living conditions, except those minds small enough that they would push, wish for and force others to. For, only the weakest minds look down without pulling others in need up.

And as Piccolo continued to ponder on their eventful day, watching Gohan keep being the adorable, loving nerd he was, trying to make him laugh while at the current specially secluded booth they shared at a nice intimate little family-owned restaurant Gohan wanted to support, promising that he would “tell friends” about it so it wouldn’t go out of business; Piccolo did finally allow the edges of his mouth to curve upward once more that day, he having lost count of how many times his face had broken its normal habit of stoicism. Today had been a day he couldn’t forget if he tried, guiding both senshi to fall even deeper in love with one another as it went on. And he knew then, free of doubt, he would no longer be able to accept a future without Gohan in it and by his side.

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Vegeta continued to watch little Fucanglong as he had promised, his awareness never leaving him, even if his eyes did. The tiny tyke had remained in one of the inside garden areas since long after lunch, not once moving from his levitating lotus pose above the grass. It was extraordinary to him. He had never witnessed a child so self-disciplined, apart from himself, so many years ago… Honestly, most adults weren’t even near so disciplined, so focused and serene, despite the constant fluctuations of their own mortal hearts. It was uncanny. Finally, the gruff prince decided to go in and speak with the boy.

“How are you Vegeta-sama? Is there something I can do for you?” offered Fucanglong once Vegeta stood adjacent him.

“How many intergalactic cycles have you acquired boy?” It was a universal way to ask one’s age.

“I have acquired six intergalactic cycles, Vegeta-sama,” he answered softly.

Hmm. That makes him about seven in Earth years. Yet he is not Chikyuujin. He is Saiyajin and Namekkuseijin. From his scent, I’d give him about—

“I am eight, my brother sixteen…at least using the calendar of the planet we were birthed on.”   

“And what planet would that be?” Little Fucang tried to remain strong, but tears came to his young eyes, he finally floating out of his meditative pose and turning away from Vegeta, not wanting him to see him cry. He couldn’t talk about that. It hurt too much…

Vegeta grimaced at the sight, sighing heavily. Though precocious, the boy was still a young child. “Fine brat, don’t worry about it. Come out of here soon though, to wash up and eat a last meal before bed,” muttered Vegeta, about to turn around until a small hand grasped his pant leg.

“Thank you for allowing us to stay in your home, Vegeta Ousama. My brother and our friends really needed a break.”  

“What did you just call me brat?”

“You are the King of Saiyajin, right? I have Saiyajin blood, so you are my king too.”

“I am not the king! He died a long time ago…” Vegeta’s fist clenched and face scrunched up as heated emotions filled him about a past he wished not to think of. Could he even really consider himself a prince now…? He was—

“‘The Saiyajin live on, even without our original home planet, we thrive as is the will of our warrior people to fight on until the last.’ My father told me that… You are a good king, Vegeta Ousama. Thank you for doing what you do. Please excuse me.” Fucanglong bowed and hurried out the door then, trying to give both of them some much needed space. There were things his young mind just was not yet ready to talk about. But he did look up to Vegeta, was immensely relieved that he and his brother were not the only Saiyajin or Namekkuseijin on the planet.

Vegeta pondered upon many things at the entrance to the vast indoor garden, his tail stretching from around his waist to wave behind him before he finally crossed the threshold once more.

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Piccolo grinned as he watched Gohan fly contentedly; he looping, swaying and swirling through the lovely star dotted night sky as they both made their way to back to Kamisama no Shinden. For once, his grin would not leave his face, no matter how much he strove to hide it. Had his life ever been so full before? And to think, it might not have ever been, if not for both their love and courage. And as they came up upon the Temple’s floor, Gohan flew closer and grasped firm hold of Piccolo’s hand; smirking playfully as he made him blush with a simple yet honest look.

They both found themselves doing a double take, however, once their eyes looked over the rim. Zhulong and Dende were holding hands while sitting on the Temple steps, peering profoundly into one another’s eyes as if there was nothing else to see in the world but each other. Gohan and Piccolo smiled at this; truly happy for both young mates-to-be. It was obvious how well their souls fit together. It was a wonder no one had introduced the two before.

Neither wanted to interrupt the tender moment, they were hoping to return to their room that night, Piccolo clearing his throat as they reached the steps; causing both teens to blush and splutter embarrassedly. Neither had sensed his and Gohan’s return, being so into each other. “Good evening Piccolo-san, Gohan-san,” uttered both in unison, having done so in sync causing both teens to flush even more deeply.

“Good evening,” offered Gohan and Piccolo in turn. “Stay out of trouble you two,” finished Piccolo, smirking at both young teens a last time before swiftly leading Gohan to the room they shared deeper within the Temple.

Zhulong and Dende were still blushing strongly; though their hands had yet to leave each other.

“I… Would it be alright if I came to see you tomorrow Dende?” enquired Zhulong earnestly.

“Of course,” answered Dende softly, a little sadness in his voice that Zhulong was going to leave what seemed so soon.

Though, when he witnessed Zhulong suddenly pull his long tail of deep vivid red hair forward and cut a thick section of locks from it with Ki, his eyes widened in worry. “What are you—?”

“Forgive me for being so forward, especially after only meeting you today, but there is no doubt in my mind. This is my promise to you Dende, that we are connected from this moment on. When you are ready, I will give all you are willing to accept of me. My life is yours, my Dearest,” promised Zhulong fervently, wrapping his cut locks with a golden string and reverently handing it to Dende. “This is how we promise ourselves to **one** mate for life. You need not feel obligated to accept now. But just know it is my sincere promise to you.”

Dende’s widened eyes watered, he shaking his head in the affirmative, holding the beautifully wrapped lock of Zhulong’s hair as if it were immensely precious. He could tell Zhulong wanted to kiss him but was holding back out of respect and reverence, so he closed the gap between them, lifting up to press his lips to Zhulong’s.

Zhulong’s eyes widened significantly before his lids lowered, he tentatively deepening the kiss as he wrapped his long arms around him; not wanting to push Dende too far too soon, but certainly wanting him.

After a few moments, they eased away to peer into each other’s eyes once more. “I should go,” said Zhulong firmly. “But I promise to return tomorrow.”

“Ah,” accepted Dende in the affirmative, standing with Zhulong and walking him to the edge of the Temple, watching intently as he watched him fly back down to Earth.

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Vegeta smirked as he caught Zhulong returning for the night. He didn’t need to ask a thing. The scent gave it away even beyond the dreamy look on the strapping teen’s face.

“How was Fucanglong today?”

“He’s the most respectable brat I’ve ever met…” He very much wanted to ask about Zhulong and Fucanglong’s parents, but decided to be nice for once. The kid was actually smiling from his heart, so that talk would have to come another day. “He and the other two brats are ‘camping in’ in the planetarium, all three already slumbering.”

“Thank you Vegeta-san. Thank you.”

“Hn. If you hurry, you might still be able to catch something edible from those two birds in the kitchen.”

At that Zhulong did chuckle, nodding to Vegeta before stepping into Capsule Corp.

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Gohan gazed up at Piccolo encouragingly, affectionately. They were slow dancing together for the first time, in the grand room they now shared. Their first official date together had been amazing, easily surpassing his expectations. But the one thing he had been unable to get Piccolo to do in public was slow dance, which was incredible considering everything else they had done in front of others that day. But the more he thought of it, the more grateful he was for it. Some things were private, sacred. While it is alright to be excited in the moment sometimes, one must never take anything for granted. And as he gazed into Piccolo’s deep onyx eyes, their arms warmly around each other, Gohan could not help but grin. He was deeply in love and could feel just how much Piccolo felt the same, words unnecessary as they continued to glide across the floor to a nice song which became _their_ song, as the love and appreciation of each other only grew with each graceful step.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**


	7. Choices

Piccolo gazed down affectionately at his still slumbering Gohan; remaining stone-still so as not to wake him. It was still unbelievable sometimes to him—that they were together, that something so extraordinarily wonderful could happen to someone like him… He smiled—not a smirk or half grin, but a full-on smile. He was certain at that moment that he had never felt so serene, complete; that even if he died that day for keeps, his life could not have been fuller than at that moment. And he did give in to that wondrous urge which delightfully tickled him to bend and kiss his Beloved.

Once their lips touched, Gohan woke with that lovely beaming smile that never failed to make Piccolo’s heart flutter in the best way. And as Gohan embraced him with so much warmth and love; though he knew it was a silly sentiment, he did yearn to give Gohan the Universe.

“Good morning Love,” whispered Gohan affectionately, beaming as he pulled away to gaze into Piccolo’s now so much warmer than his person had begun, amazing glinting ebony eyes.  

“Same to you Gohan,” responded Piccolo in turn. He was grateful Gohan had been so patient. They had been living together for months now in Kami’s Shinden—living, eating and training together; better getting to know themselves and each other—and though they both had felt the powerful urges to mate with one another on several occasion: they both held back, learning even greater discipline together than they before thought possible. When they finally took the dive together, they both yearned for it to be right; not because of mere primitive urges or misguided societal notions, but because they were holistically ready to share all of themselves with each other, in the most positive, intimate and worthwhile ways. And even if today wasn’t the day they finally “make love”, as Gohan likes to say, Piccolo was ready to finally take Gohan out on a real date himself; to express his very real love for him his way.

Piccolo gingerly grasped Gohan’s chin then and gazed fervently into his eyes. “I am ready Gohan. I am sorry it took so long, but I yearned for everything to be perfect,” averred Piccolo with his deep earnest shimmering onyx eyes.

Gohan just grinned at him in turn, lightly brushing his lips against his own. “Perfect is wherever you are Piccolo-san,” he remarked affectionately.

Piccolo flushed and quickly looked away; earning a delightful chuckle from Gohan. “You never did play fair kid.”

“What is veritably fair in love or war?” quipped Gohan with an amused smirk.

“Touché.” Piccolo abruptly rose from their bed then. “Get ready. Just for today we are skipping our morning training. I am going to give you a date you will never forget,” finished Piccolo with a proud, confident grin.

You already have my Love; in so many ways, you already have. “Alright. I’ll be ready in a half.”

And Piccolo did enjoy watching Gohan purposely shimmy all the way to the bathroom in nothing but his underwear; a bit more than just his tail stirring in excitement.  

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Once setting down at a certain desert, Piccolo pulled the blindfold he’d tied from Gohan’s face. Gohan gazed around observantly. He tried to smile, but he had thought Piccolo said they could forego training for the day. He did not understand why they would come to a wasteland other than to train, so he looked up to Piccolo expectantly.

“Look again Gohan,” urged Piccolo with a bit more enthusiasm than usual, willing him to realise the place’s relevance.

And Gohan did look around again, a grin coming to his face once he saw an unlit fire-pit stacked with wood in the immaculate yet unique way only one particular senshi he knew did. And then it hit him. This area, _this_ _place_ was the first one and time he had gotten Piccolo to sit and talk with him; next to the fire, after a long hard day of training for the arrival of the Saiyajin; for once without severely chastising him. It was a very dear night in his memory, perhaps the first moment his young heart began falling for his “demonic” sensei; feeling things his young mind then could not yet fully grasp. Because, he had always somehow known the powerful tall angry green man garbed in purple was so much more than he seemed. But that night years ago made him begin believing in his shishou’s wondrous heart, so much bigger than himself:

_“Piccolo-san, what’s your favourite food?”_

_“I do not eat, or haven’t you noticed,” uttered Piccolo with a grunt, his stern gaze not moving from the distance._

_“But you drink water, so don’t you ever get hungry?”_

_Piccolo almost growled then. “I guess you could say water is my food. Now be silent and rest. And do not let yourself believe I’ll go easy on you tomorrow.”_

_Gohan didn’t want to try his luck, but he really wanted to know the answer to his next question. In all the time his shishou had trained him, he had not once seen him smile from his heart. He might smirk, sneer or grimace but never smile. He knew Piccolo was an extraordinary person, and he wondered why such a person would be so unhappy. He really wanted to know then just what would make him smile._

_“Piccolo-san, what would make you happy?”_

_Piccolo’s eyes did turn to peer at him harshly then, a severe frown forming in his complex mind. He had already succeeded in killing the boy’s father; however it had been pushed to happen. For whatever reason, it had not pleased him as much as he thought it should. In fact, it had only succeeded to widen the chasm in his soul… What right did this child have to ask such a thing?_

_“I smiled when I sent your father to Other World,” he finally answered with a devilish sideways grin._

_Gohan frowned but he wasn’t buying it. “You’re lying Piccolo-san. I did not ask to offend or upset you. I just thought someone like you deserved to be happy. I thought your face would be beautiful if it could just sometimes wear a real smile.”_

_Though his chest felt uncomfortably warm then, Piccolo returned his face to inscrutable. He did not understand then how a mere child, son of his greatest enemy no doubt,_ _was having such an effect on him, but he did not like it._

_“Go to sleep before I give you a real reason to frown,” finally growled Piccolo curtly, no leeway in his voice or tone._

_“Okay,” whispered Gohan softly, curling up in his little area around the fire, not allowing himself to cry; closing his eyes, begging for slumber to soon find him. If only he could get through to Piccolo-san…_

_After a while without success, Gohan remained still and controlled his thoughts and breathing. And the most amazing thing happened! Piccolo touched his head ever so softly, running his hard talon-ed fingers through his hair with somehow even more gentleness than his mother ever had. What he whispered next surprising him to his core._

_“I would be happy if you did not have to fight kid. This is not your war. And the world ought not to be placed on your shoulders just because of who your father was,” whispered Piccolo softly; truly believing the boy asleep, forcefully willing the cruel voice of his wicked sire down for at least a moment’s peace._

_It was almost impossible for Gohan to not get up and embrace Piccolo then. But he knew better. Piccolo-san was not yet ready to accept affection from anyone. So he would await the day he would be, willing to give his all to him._

_In the next few moments little Gohan slept peacefully; a real if not sideways smile coming to the face of his “demon” shishou as he guarded the boy with his life while he slept._

The memory brought a tear to both senshis’ eyes; both experiencing the shared memory through the eyes of the other, only bringing them both closer.

“I love you Piccolo-san,” said Gohan with all his love and heart, giving in to his urge to hug his Beloved.

“I love you Gohan,” finally whispered Piccolo with more emotion than he had anything in his life. He could finally admit to his own heart that he did, that that promise was one he not only wanted to keep, but would wholeheartedly for the rest of his existence.

After they had embraced for a long tender moment, Gohan suddenly tapped Piccolo’s shoulder, screaming he was “it” once he was a good distance away. Piccolo only smiled and called back that Gohan was “in so much trouble” once he got his hands on him. And thus an exciting impromptu game of onigokko began between two extraordinary senshi.

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“What’s that?” asked Goten curiously, his large dark eyes gazing fixedly at the colourful 3D page.

“That’s our original home world, Wakusei Sadaru,” answered Fucanglong with a bit of wistfulness.

“You mean the one you and Zhulong came from?” questioned Trunks seriously.

“No. Wakusei Sadaru is the original world of all Saiyajin. Sadly, it was lost long before any of us were born. Hasn’t your father ever told you about it?”

“Not really,” replied Trunks quietly, his eyes looking down. Vegeta never talked much to him unless it was to reprimand or train him, causing the young lilac haired prince to sigh to himself.

“Where did you get these cool holographic books?” asked Goten, scooting closer to Trunks and comfortingly rubbing his tail against his, which Trunks was grateful for, he flushing lightly.

This did not go unnoticed by Fucanglong. He was sure Trunks and Goten would be life-mates one day. And he was happy for them. But thought brought more clouds over his young mind. His parents were gone. Would he ever find a life-mate for himself? Even his big brother had Dende now. Would he end up all alone?

“What’s wrong Fucang?!” cried both Trunks and Goten together.

“Nothing,” whispered little Fucanglong, striving to halt his tears before they could flow.

“Trunks said when we get big; I and he will be mates for life. We’ll share our house and food and toys and everything; kind of like how we do now. Why couldn’t you join us? Why couldn’t the three of us be mates for life?” asked sweet Goten with his large heart.

Trunks’ eyes bulged at that. Obviously Goten did not know yet precisely what mating for life entailed. But as he turned to see a anxiously flushing little Fucanglong staring at him in real question and hope, he could only smile nervously. Perhaps having two mates wouldn’t be so bad. He was a prince after all. And his confidence heightened at the thought. “Goten’s right. Would you like to be our life-mate?” offered Trunks, he and Goten holding their hands out to Fucanglong in oath.

“Y-you would…with me?” asked Fucanglong incredulous.

“Of course! You’re awesome!” chirped Goten honestly.

“Why wouldn’t we?” added Trunks.

Fucanglong couldn’t help but cry then; pulling Goten and Trunks in to his little person and hugging them with all the warmth and appreciation he could. “Thank you so much, thank you!”

As he continued to hug his dear friends and future mates, Fucanglong did open his eyes and see a glaring Vegeta in the doorway. More tears of a different type were about to fall until he saw his king smile with rare softness, put a finger to his lips to signal silence, and nodded his head in acceptance before quietly stepping back out the door.

Little Fucanglong never felt so much hope, gratitude and warmth before. And for the first time since losing his parents and home world, he finally felt like he was **home**.    

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After finally winning for the first time at their special game of tag around the world for the last few hours, Gohan was pretty sure Piccolo could go for something to eat; circling back around to the campsite Piccolo already had set up earlier in what would from now on be known as their _special_ _place_.

“Why don’t we take a break now? You could meditate a while and I’ll hunt something.” He didn’t care what they did together; time with Piccolo was amazing, no matter what they did or didn’t do. But now he wanted to do something for him, feeling so much closer to him, wanting to—

“Change that to me hunting and you relaxing, and all will be a go,” answered Piccolo determinedly.

Apparently Piccolo was going to lead how the entire day went, which Gohan had no problem with. That side of him intrigued him; always shrewd, calculating and taking charge. So, he did as he was told, spreading out on the grand cushioned cerulean futon Piccolo had set out, closing his eyes in complete trust of his Beloved as he rested comfortably with his hands behind his head. Piccolo could not help but allow the edges of his lips to curve upwards as he gazed down at Gohan before taking off for his hunt.

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Piccolo realized something profound as he thanked, cleaned and prepared his kill: he would rather be doing such for Gohan, for his Love’s original appetite; he would much rather prepare meals that he knew his Gohan would eat most of. So he understood then: as much as he had come to enjoy the enormous power that came from constantly bombarding with training his Saiyajin body, as much as he treasured Gohan as the amazing Namekkuseijin he had become; he would much rather be in his own Namekkuseijin form, and Gohan in his original half Saiyajin half Chikyuujin one. Their souls would always be their own souls, regardless of the form they took. But their original birth bodies meant something significant too; something Piccolo had not fully comprehended until this point.

“Something wrong Piccolo-san?” enquired Gohan with a bit of worry.  

“No, nothing’s wrong,” answered Piccolo evenly, his eyes going over his gigantic, slowly roasting slab of reptile meat.

“That’s going to take a while right?”

“Ah.”

“Well, why don’t we do something fun while we wait?”

Piccolo flushed heatedly, his tail rushing back and forth behind him. He was disappointed in his own remaining lack of discipline, but the first thought that came to his mind when Gohan said “fun” was obvious; he looking everywhere but at Gohan. Yes, he certainly missed his other body. And Gohan’s honest giggling only helped heighten his lust. No, he had control. Oh! That’s it! He could give one of his gifts to Gohan early. That would turn his mind to other thoughts for a moment.

“Wait here. I have something for you.” Gohan did not get time to answer, but he grinned anyway. He loved the many sides he now knew there were to his Piccolo. And when Piccolo finally returned with a familiarly shaped gift wrapped in aqua hued paper and a clean golden ribbon, he accepted it gratefully with a smile, beginning to open it.

There was his amazing Love again. The thick hard covered research book set was one he had wanted for a while, but held back, saving up because of its price. There was just nothing like holding a real book in your hands and reading it with natural light. “Arigatou!” expressed Gohan excitedly; hugging the large books to his chest as the treasures he saw them as, earning one of those rare wholesome smiles from Piccolo. And he could not help himself then. After delicately placing his books on the cerulean futon, he moved to Piccolo and kissed him deeply; wrapping his arms around his neck to keep him in place.

Piccolo was unready for that, but he managed to remain standing, doing his best to give Gohan as good as he gave with the kiss. So much for other thoughts. Gods! Did Gohan know what he was doing to him?

When the sultry kiss finally broke, Piccolo’s kissed plumped lips failed to leave Gohan’s skin; trailing ardently down his chin up to his ear, turning to more thrilling love nips at his neck, making Gohan shake with want in his arms. Gods how the need to devour him heightened! But, no. He’d better stop before—

“I don’t…want you to stop this time, Piccolo-san,” whispered Gohan fervently before tugging on Piccolo’s ear with his teeth.

“Gohan…”

“ _O-ne-gai_ ,” crooned Gohan in a singsong timbre that drove Piccolo nearly wild.

“If we go further, I-I might not s-stop—” stuttered Piccolo, unable to help it then.

“I don’t want you to,” asserted Gohan more strongly; powerfully urging Piccolo down to the large cushioned cerulean futon with him, locking his lips to his once more. And Piccolo couldn’t help but give in to that wondrous burning, his powerful tongue twining with Gohan’s ardently, his hands pulling Gohan’s body closer to his own, and flipping them both over so he was atop _his_ Gohan. He was his!

As Piccolo paused to gaze down into Gohan’s imploring eyes, he knew he would no longer refuse him: it both thrilled and unnerved him, the sheer power Gohan had over him, so unlike any he’d ever known. And before he could breathe another breath, he hissed through his teeth at the sudden closeness of their flesh; Gohan having removed their clothing with a thought.

“Gohan…”

“Piccolo-san…”

Both could feel as well as smell each other’s potent arousal; Gohan’s Namekkuseijin lubrication leaking from both his sex organs, causing Piccolo to shudder while trying to maintain control. But Piccolo wanted this to be good for Gohan. His own pleasure meant so little next to his dear Gohan’s. And he found the strength to gain control of himself before the urge to thrust took over, moving his body down Gohan’s until he could bring his Love’s engorged phallus-like organ into his mouth, earning a sharp gasp from his Beloved Gohan.

Piccolo almost smirked as he watched Gohan writhe under the power of his deft mouth, loving that he brought that beautiful flushed look out in him; his lips, mouth and tongue sucking and twirling around Gohan’s prominent male organ until his thighs locked around Piccolo’s skull.

“Piccolo-san!” Gohan cried as he suddenly came hard into Piccolo’s mouth; Piccolo continuing his skilful devoted suction until Gohan became soft in his mouth, drinking all he could of him, not letting a bit waste past his lips.

As he gazed down possessively at _his_ Mate, he finally did smirk. He had never seen Gohan so beautifully helpless and lost for words before. And couldn’t help but move to kiss his lips once more.

Gohan finally pulled away for breath, grinning with that “I’m so gonna get you back for that” look. But he faltered when he saw Piccolo’s suddenly very serious face. “Piccolo-san?” He didn’t regret that, did he? Why would he have done it if…?

Piccolo closed his eyes and he sighed before looking to Gohan earnestly. “Are you sure Gohan? There is something I have not told you. Namekkuseijin aren’t like most other creatures when it comes to mating. If we go through with this, it would be our true union, so much profounder than Chikyuujin marriage: we would be deeply connected for the rest of our lives. That is another reason I held back. I can give you pleasure, like I just did without consequence. But if we go all the way, we cannot return to what we once were. Our souls, bodies and life-forces would be connected as long as we exist. If you are unsure, even slightly, we should wait,” informed Piccolo seriously, his head painfully lucid.

“How many times do I have to say ‘I love you’ Piccolo-san? How—?”

“You misunderstand. I do not at all doubt you. I only wish for your happiness. But I need you to be sure, for it cannot be undone. And I could not bear hurting you, locking you into something that cannot be changed.”

“Then make love to me now with all that you are; hold nothing back, _unite_ _us_ _forever_ my Love,” implored Gohan with those large beautiful dark eyes that never failed to melt Piccolo’s heart. And Piccolo did begin to kiss Gohan again, hoping to bring out that wondrous heat and pleasure once more, his large Saiyajin heart pounding fervidly in his chest. But he faltered once more. He did not want the time they unite to be this way.

“Gohan, would you wait until a little later, please?”

“Well, I can at least give you what you gave me. Let me—”

“I am quite alright. If you noticed, I came just knowing you did. So let’s clean up. I have another present before we eat.”

“Alright Piccolo-san, alright.”

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After Gohan refreshed and clothed the both of them with his Namekkuseijin abilities, Piccolo left a moment, soon returning with another something wrapped. He offered it to Gohan as if it were glass, so Gohan regarded it very carefully.

“Go ahead, open it,” pressed Piccolo with nervousness, hope and pride in his eyes.

And Gohan did carefully unwrap the large thin present, in awe of the immaculately painted canvas now before him. The grand opus held the most beautiful waterfall background he had ever seen, so masterfully captured, so much better than film, seemingly lit by the light of picturesque light of the setting sun, like he could reach out and touch it. But that was not what held his eyes in wonder. He knew Piccolo was skilled in various areas of expertise. It was the subject of the painting that stunned him: Piccolo had painted two versions of him; his original demi-Saiyajin form looking down into the reflective pool of water at the Namekkuseijin version of himself, smiling; both images too beautiful to be him yet somehow still uncannily authentic, conveying the artist’s true worship of him. He didn’t know what to say, so he settled for embracing Piccolo warmly, hoping his love and appreciation for him was fully felt by him.

“Thank you my Piccolo-san.”

Both mates felt immensely warm then, Piccolo’s tail wrapping around Gohan possessively and affectionately as they continued a tender embrace.

“Shall we eat now?” asked Gohan after a while.

“Ah,” answered Piccolo with a smile. He loved to see his Gohan’s eyes shine with gentle mirth.

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After a great meal, and flying for an hour or so blinded folded, Gohan was finally told he could set down and uncover his eyes. As he gazed around at all the luscious, picturesque scenery, Gohan’s face pooled with awe and love. As usual, Piccolo had found one of the most beautiful places on Earth, somehow unblemished by man and his foolishness; diverse trees and abundant life flowing healthily, the beautiful autumn colours of their multihued leaves abound. And at the end of an immaculately carved swirling path lined with large round stones, sat a grand sturdy but lovely ivory and indigo hued dome; a perfect gem within all the breath-taking scenery, a wonder on its own. And then he gasped, realising that even without his usual Namek abilities, Piccolo had built them a house— _their own_ _home_.

“Piccolo-san!” he cried, he cried in wonderment.

“Do you like it?” Gohan could only respond by laughing joyously. How could he possibly think he didn’t? “Good. Let’s put our things away. There is one more thing I wish to show you before we settle for the night.”

At the edge of a cliff of their new mountain home, Piccolo laid out their futon once more and asked Gohan to sit. There he pointed out to the stunningly beautiful setting sun, caught perfectly at that specific place. And as Gohan looked out in pure euphoric awe, Piccolo felt incredibly warm and tall and full. He yearned to give Gohan so very much; hopefully this was a good start.

“It’s incredible Piccolo-san. I really don’t have words… Thank you!” finally cried Gohan, tears of overwhelm and elation brimming his eyes as he hugged close to his incredible mate, who he knew without a doubt loved him so very much; the two of them continuing to watch the sunset together in each other’s arms.

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After having crossed the threshold of their new home, Piccolo finally said it, “Happy Anniversary, Gohan,” his eyes gauging Gohan intently.

Gohan was puzzled a moment. It hadn’t been a year yet since they’ve been dating or even since they had their bodies changed. What…? When it finally came to him; tears did spill from his eyes. It was anniversary of the first day they had met one another in life. Of course Piccolo would find that day the greatest one to remember: not because it had been the greatest day, or even because they understood each other then, but because it had been the beginning of their story together.

“Oh Piccolo-san!” cried Gohan, suddenly feeling bad that he hadn’t gotten anything for Piccolo.

Piccolo eased away a little, gingerly lifting Gohan’s chin with a finger. “I am happy just being with you. You needn’t worry about getting me a thing. _You_ are the greatest gift I could ever be blessed with,” he averred earnestly, his neck bending so his lips could caress his Gohan’s.

_Take me now Piccolo-san!_ Cried Gohan’s mind ardently. _I am absolutely sure._

And Piccolo did proceed to lift Gohan into his arms, beginning to carry his mate up the immaculate spiral staircase and to the third and top tier to their home. Once at their new master bedroom—hued in lovely blues, greens and golds—Piccolo gently placed Gohan on their grand indigo duvet. He actually allowed himself to chuckle when Gohan paused to peer around in awe.

“Wow Piccolo-san. How did you do all this without me knowing? We’ve done most things together for a while now.” Piccolo just smirked as answer and began kissing him again; to which Gohan heartily participated.

Gohan suddenly removing their clothes with a thought did catch Piccolo off-guard, causing Gohan to smirk. Though, his face became thoughtful as he saw the honest nervousness in Piccolo’s eyes; his hand running through Piccolo’s thick dark Saiyajin locks comfortingly. “It’s alright. I am ready,” he said honestly, pulling Piccolo’s body closer to his own.

Piccolo did hiss through his teeth as their bodies touched more closely; his eyes closing and his head going backward as a deep moan escaped him. He wasn’t even inside yet, and he already felt pleasantly overwhelmed, as if he were drowning in molten bliss. And when Gohan grasped hold of his face and proceeded to devour his mouth, wrapping his legs around his waist; he was sure he could take no more.

Both mates’ mouths opened in a silent scream as they felt their most intimate portions of flesh begin to breach and unite. A huge part of Piccolo just wanted to shove his throbbing member right into Gohan, but he managed to maintain control. Though his Saiyajin side urged him to just do it, he knew Gohan would not appreciate it as a Namekkuseijin, so he began to penetrate slowly, gauging Gohan’s reactions the whole way. He bit his lip almost until it bled, easing his long powerful length into Gohan portion by portion; knowing full well Gohan was striving to remain calm too, despite his eagerness. And when he was finally in to the hilt, both he and Gohan let out a breath.

Still intently gauging Gohan’s face, Piccolo pulled out to the tip and dipped back in a few times slow, until Gohan’s natural lubrication made things more comfortable for the both of them; then he began a gentle pumping pace, allowing Gohan the chance to get used to his girth. In no time at all they were both panting groaning and clinging to one another’s sweat drenched forms for dear life; the fierce pleasure, pressure and warmth more than either had ever imagined as they took each other higher. And when Piccolo lifted Gohan’s thighs to his shoulders, deepening his angle and thrust; Gohan cried out his name in pleasure in a way he couldn’t forget if he tried; urging him to thrust deeper and hold to him tighter.

“Piccolo-san!”

“Gohan!”

On they thrust together; the profound warmth and pleasure of being together euphoric beyond words, even if the tell-tale sign of upcoming apex was not throbbing intensely throughout their muscular bodies. And when Gohan’s body suddenly arched, he flipped them both over, beginning to ride Piccolo for all he was worth; Piccolo thought he might die of pleasure, tears of such in both their eyes as they felt the same deluge.

As their zenith began, silvery light emanated brightly from both their eyes as bliss overwhelmed their bodies and minds in throbbing spasms for the longest time, until they both fell upon each other in a heap of fatigued body parts.

Once they caught their breath, they gazed at each other fondly; knowing and pleased that that profound union had taken place between them, the hues of their souls changed as the threads of their beings were each now entwined with the other’s.

“Daisuki…watashi no Piccolo,” uttered Gohan affectionately, rubbing Piccolo’s arm lovingly with the back of his fingers.

“Same to you my Gohan, same to you,” whispered Piccolo earnestly, hugging Gohan tighter to him and kissing his head in between his antennae, holding him and what they did as sacred, as it ought to be. But of course, his stomach had to ruin the moment by growling.  

Gohan attempted to get up then. “I get you something to eat—”

“I am just fine Gohan. Here with you in this moment, I am just fine.”

“Hm.”

And with that Gohan laid his head on Piccolo’s broad chest and allowed the deepening fatigue claiming him to take him fully; Piccolo guarding him until he was entirely asleep, succumbing to his own mounting lethargy moments later.

Up in the Tenkai Zhulong and Dende were flushing quite heatedly. They hadn’t meant to see that. But Dende was being the kind giving god he was, momentarily sharing his god-sight with Zhulong as he checked the earth over. And of course, feeling something as extraordinary as the rare veritable union of two souls, Dende’s natural radar was drawn to it. And once their eyes had seen, they couldn’t un-see. But the whole thing did make him and Zhulong more thoughtful, about themselves, each other and the future.

“I am not ready for that Zhulong. But I do feel in my heart that you are the one. I hope we become much closer in time,” confessed Dende honestly.

“I feel the same Dende. Thank you for being so generous to me.”

The two young mates-to-be embraced then in warmth and understanding; surely grateful to have the other around, the future seeming bright.

**Tsudzuku…**

**Arigatou Gozaimasu for reading minna-san.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: “Chapter 8: Consequences”. It has been too long. Hopefully I will be able to update sooner for all my stories; here's hoping. Thanks again all who genuinely and respectfully read and review. I’ll keep updating when I can.


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